The Hundred Acre Wood
by DracaDelirus
Summary: AU Eleven year old Harry's fondest wish is to disappear. With help from friends in a magical storybook he just might succeed. Warning: Mention of extreme child abuse and rape. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you.
1. Boy

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, Winnie-the-Pooh, or anything else that may seem familiar. In fact, I own very little.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of extreme child abuse, and abuse of the sexual nature in later chapters. It isn't my intention to offend so my sincerest apologies in advance to anyone that I might upset because they didn't read this warning. And please know that no matter how dark it gets, there will be a happy ending. If you decide to go ahead and read this, and it is not yet complete, and you get worried along the way and want the happy ending now to know it all ends okay, just let me know and I will send it to you. The happy ending is already written and I would much rather share it now than to distress anyone.

Timeline: Wednesday morning, July 31st 1991

**Chapter 1 – Boy**

Boy curled up in a ball on his raggedy blanket and tried to become so small that he would disappear. Disappearing was Boy's fondest wish, but like everything else in his short life, he had never been gifted with it. However, that didn't mean he wouldn't keep trying to do it, especially as he felt compelled to do so, if for no other reason than to try to please 'The Family'. After all, it was what The Family kept telling him to do - to disappear as if he never existed. To his credit, he really did try to the best of his abilities to please them and make them happy, even though his best never seemed quite good enough and they were not a particularly jolly bunch by nature.

He scrunched up his eyes, wrapped his thin arms around his knees, and wished again with all his might. Was it his imagination, or did the air around him feel differently this time - warmer and almost … alive?

**BANG! **

The sound broke Boy's concentration and his head snapped up immediately, his wide startled eyes drawn to the illuminated crack under his little door.

"BOY! YOU BETTER NOT BE GETTING ANY BAD IDEAS IN THERE! I WON'T STAND FOR IT I TELL YOU!" Ma'am's voice screeched from the other side of the door.

Ma'am hadn't actually asked Boy a direct question so he remained silent knowing it was against the rules for him to talk, unless specifically ordered to do so. An event that rarely happened, as The Family seldom wanted to hear anything he had to say unless it was an apology. However, Ma'am's accusation did make Boy think hard. She had accused him of having ideas on several occasions in the past, and as of yet Boy was still not sure just what an idea was. As The Family didn't allow him to ask questions - finding out what they were talking about sometimes was a tad difficult at best. However, using the process of elimination he could usually come close, and right now, he was fairly certain he didn't have any of the ideas that Ma'am claimed he did in his little cupboard - good, bad, or otherwise.

However, to be absolutely sure he felt around into every nook and cranny. No, nothing there that wasn't there the last time he checked. Besides the blanket he was laying on, there were few other things in his space. There was a plastic bucket with a handle for carrying, he knew that wasn't an idea so he pushed it carefully into the corner so it wouldn't slop out, and felt further. There was his tattered story book, the empty water pitcher, an old sock with a hole in the toe, a bent coat hanger, a paper clip, a used tissue, and a couple of spiders that skittered out of the way as his hand brushed them, and lastly Boy himself.

That was all.

No ideas.

Not a one.

"BOY! DID YOU HEAR ME? WHY DIDN'T YOU ANSWER? AREN'T YOU PAYING ATTENTION?"

'_The rules must have changed again! I was supposed to have answered!' _

Boy cringed at his mistake. He was to obey all of the rules all of the time. Breaking any rule always meant swift and painful punishment, and ignorance of them was not an acceptable excuse. Because if he were good he would automatically know what they were and abide by them, it was only because he was bad, that he didn't have a clue and kept breaking them. He scooted over close to the door, and with his mouth pressed as close to the crack under the door as possible, he answered quietly.

"Yes Ma'am, I mean, no Ma'am. There are no ideas in here. Sorry Ma'am."

"YOU HAD BETTER BE SORRY BOY! I KNOW YOU ARE UP TO SOMETHING. YOU'RE PLOTTING SOMETHING BAD AREN'T YOU? WE'LL SEE WHAT YOUR MASTER HAS TO SAY ABOUT IT WHEN HE GETS HOME."

The wrath emanating from Ma'am was so tangible in the air that Boy could feel its sharp tendrils slithering under the door and stabbing into his heart. He had tried so hard to please, and once again, all he'd been was a disappointment and a burden.

As Ma'am stormed away, her angry vibrations caused the floor to shudder and the spiders to scurry to the safety of their webs. Although Boy knew he deserved to be yelled at, and his mistakes pointed out, he was still relieved when the shrill voice stopped and Ma'am left him alone. He also knew that his momentary respite would be short lived when Sir came home as promised. He already knew Sir wouldn't be any happier than Ma'am was. Boy shuddered at the thought.

He was still hurting all over and limping from the lesson against wanton gluttony that Sir had taught him before he left for work that morning. Normally Sir's impromptu lessons just left him with welts and bruises, but this time he had made the mistake of accidentally jerking in pain and kicking Sir instead of staying perfectly still while it was being administered. Sir reminded him never to do that again by twisting the offending foot until Boy begged him to stop. Boy was not sure if he could take another lesson of that type so soon and still be able to do his chores effectively, but he knew it was useless to beg Sir not to beat him for sinning, just as it had been useless that morning to beg for some water for his empty pitcher. He shouldn't have been greedy then, and he shouldn't expect forgiveness now. Besides, he didn't have any choice in the matter - it would happen whether he was ready or not, because he had no rights. He was a nothing.

When the fates had first rudely thrust the unwanted baby boy into their home, The Family had to decide what to do with him that wouldn't impose on their own space. However, wherever they put him, they could still see him, and what was worse - he could see them. He wouldn't fuss, but he would stare at them with his unusually vivid emerald green eyes as if he knew what they were thinking. It was unsettling. Anything unusual and unsettling was 'abnormal', and being abnormal was most unacceptable in their very normal household. To remedy the situation, Sir and Ma'am finally hit on the idea of partitioning off the tall roomy part of the under stair space under the upper steps. This created a useful closet to store cleaning supplies, leaving only the small cramped awkward space under the lower steps (where they couldn't conveniently reach anyway), that they allowed the boy for his personal use. As Boy was barely fifteen months old at the time, and quite small, the space was more than roomy enough. Very fitting, they laughed as they shut him inside and thus made the green staring eyes go away - 'wasted space' for the 'waste of space'.

As he was so young when the door first closed him in, Boy could barely remember any other way of life. Any thoughts, feelings, or memories of the time before the darkness enveloped him, were just lovely bright scraps of dreams. So lovely that Boy knew they couldn't possibly belong to him. For as far back as Boy could remember his life had not been lovely at all. It had always been very dark and about one metre square. That was as far as he could reach in any direction, including up, before he touched a wall. If he lay in the centre catty-corner and stretched out his legs and arms, he could touch all four walls at the same time. He knew this as he did it quite often, as there was really no other entertainment to be had in the small space. If he lay straight-wise, his head touched the back wall and he couldn't stretch out without curling up his knees - his feet barely finding room in the space created by the bottom stair.

The cupboard under the stairs may have been roomy when The Family first put him in here, but if he grew any more he wouldn't be able to do anything but curl up no matter which way he turned. He laughed at this thought. To grow would mean being well fed, and that was highly unlikely to happen. That meant he wasn't in danger of completely outgrowing the space anytime soon he thought ruefully. eHe Which was good as he was very seldom allowed out of the cupboard, and then only to be punished or to do chores. As much as he was afraid of the dark, he would rather just stay in his cupboard, because at least in here he wasn't hurt or overworked. However, he didn't have any choice in that either.

'_I wish I knew how to be good. I wish I knew what good was.' _Boy thought in frustration. '_All I was trying to do was disappear as The Family wants me to, and Ma'am said I was being bad even though I wasn't breaking any of the rules! I wasn't making any sound, I wasn't asking questions, I wasn't moving, I was just pretending I didn't exist. I thought that was what The Family wanted.'_

He wiped away the silent tears running down his cheeks with the back of his grubby hand. Then wrapping the small blanket around his trembling shoulders, he cradled the tattered book carefully in his arms. Opening the pages in the dim light from the crack under the door, he tenderly traced his finger around the charming characters on the pages. He wondered what the real story was that went with them. He had seen Ma'am read storybooks like this to Cousin but she had never read this one to him. Therefore, since he didn't know what the words said, he had made up his own stories in his mind to go with the pictures, but he was sure that the pitiful fantasies he could think up were probably not nearly as exciting as the real story. To him the characters were very exciting. They could do all sorts of things, many more than Boy himself could. But then Boy had had very few happy experiences in life himself, so it was hard to think up adventures he thought worthy of the colourful happy characters he considered his only friends. That meant the characters had to make up their own, and they did – they were all so terribly creative! The thought brought a small smile to Boy's face even though he was quite envious.

Boy then touched the black squiggles on the page, his index finger mimicking the shape of the loops and lines. Ma'am said things that looked like this were something called 'words' and you read them. So many words … only Boy didn't know how to read and Ma'am said he was too stupid to learn. If only he could, he thought, then maybe he would also know how to disappear just as his friends did whenever The Family pounded on his door. Then again, if he knew how to read, he might also get 'ideas' and possessing even one idea was strictly forbidden.

Boy sighed. There was just too many ways to break the rules. The disheartening thought finally made Boy's head droop onto the open pages and he drifted off to sleep while he awaited the promised punishment.

'_I wish I could live with my friends in The Hundred Acre Wood _…_' _

In the dark of the little cupboard, the pages of the tattered storybook gave off a momentary soft blue glow at his words.

'_I wish _…_'_


	2. A First Birthday Party

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Still Wednesday morning, July 31st 1991

**Chapter 2 – A First Birthday Party**

"Hallo Tigger!" Christopher Robin called out to his bouncy friend with a smile, "I am glad to see you again."

"Halloo-o-o-o Christopher Robin!" Tigger popped his head out from behind a tree and waved in return.

"Tigger, have you seen Pooh? I've been looking everywhere in the Hundred Acre Wood for him."

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Does everywhere included Owl's house? If not it should."

"Why is that Tigger?"

"Because then you would find Pooh!"

"Oh! I get it! Pooh is at Owls!"

"They're planning a party. Tigger hopes it is for him! Tigger likes parties! Tigger likes cakes! Tigger likes pasties! Hey! Hey!" Tigger bounced in circles around Christopher Robin on his springy tail. Each bounce, bouncing higher than the last one.

"I do too Tigger. Why don't you come with me to Owl's house? Maybe we can help with the party. It will be fun!" Christopher Robin set off slowly down the path towards Owl's tree.

"Hey? Hey? What's wrong?" Tigger stopped bouncing and watched curiously after the young boy walking down the path ahead of him. Christopher Robin seemed to be limping. That made Tigger worried. "Is Christopher Robin alright? You've been gone a long time. You didn't fall into the dark hole again … did you?"

"Yes I did Tigger," Christopher Robin admitted softly glancing back over his shoulder at the gaping black abyss still visible just beyond the end of the path. He shuddered and turned his back resolutely against the pull he could feel emanating from it. He sighed sadly and then seeing the worried look on his friend's furry face, he gave him as reassuring a grin as he could.

Seeing that Christopher Robin's grin was only on his lips and not in his eyes, Tigger hung upside-down from a limb of a nearby tree by his springy tail, so that his worried frown would turn into a grin too. Watching Tigger's antics made Christopher Robin's grin spread all over his face. Happy that he cheered up his friend, Tigger made his springy tail bounce him up and down from the limb until he bounced so low his head hit the ground.

"Ha-ha! You silly tiger! I am okay, really I am. I am whenever I am here in The Hundred Acre Wood with you and Pooh and Piglet and Roo and Eeyore and Owl. I wish I could live here all the time instead of in the dark hole. I don't like it there. Pooh and Eeyore said they would help me build a house to live in but I don't know how to stay here long enough to do it."

"Tigger has an idea! Let's go find Owl! I bet Owl knows how you can stay for always and always! Owl is smart. Owl says he knows everything." With that, Tigger bounced off the limb and down the path on his springy tail as fast as he could, leaving Christopher Robin trailing slowly behind thinking to himself.

'_Tigger must know what ideas are, after all he said he had one. Maybe Tigger could show it to me. If I knew what they looked like then I could avoid them. Then maybe Ma'am wouldn't always be so angry with me.'_

With that happy plan in mind, Christopher Robin followed his friend down the path to Owl's house.

"Halloo-o-o-o Pooh! It's a bounce-a-licious day, if I say so myself! Christopher Robin is back!" Tigger bounced into Owl's house. Grabbing Pooh by his chubby paws, he started swinging him around and around and around.

"I would agree it is a _very_ pooh-a-licious day Tigger, and I _do_ say so myself," replied the plump little bear with a chuckle.

"Halloo! If it isn't Owl too!" bounced Tigger, letting go of a now very dizzy Pooh and exuberantly greeting Owl, much to an anxious Owl's dismay.

Pooh spun and spun and spun on first one foot then the other until he plopped down next to Owl's hunny pots and eyed them hopefully. '_Just the cure for a dizzy bear,_' Pooh thought smacking his lips.

"Not so surprising Tigger since this IS my house," hooted the ever-pompous Owl flying to the top of his bookshelf out of Tigger's reach. "Did you say Christopher Robin was back in The Hundred Acre Wood?"

"Yes, and he wants to know if you can figured out how he can stay in The Hundred Acre Wood forever." Tigger announced bouncing so high he hit his head on Owl's ceiling. Then with an uncharacteristic unbouncy feeling, he stopped bouncing and whispered to Owl and Pooh, "Christopher Robin fell into the dark hole again and got hurt real bad this time."

"Oh dear! Oh my!" Owl cried, "But Pooh and I are leaving The Wood."

"You are?" Tigger looked around puzzled. "You look like you are here to Tigger."

Tigger gave Pooh a big pinch to see if he was real.

"Ouch!" Pooh yelped pulling his head out of the first pot of hunny. The only good thing about being pinched by at Tigger was that the remedy was a liberal dose of hunny! Luckily, Owl had two.

"That is what the party for Tigger," Owl said not so patiently and far enough away not to be pinched as well. "It is a going away party. We are going to join you and Piglet this year at Hogwarts."

"What about Eeyore?"

Owl nodded that he was also coming.

"And Roo?" Tigger said starting to worry again as he twisted his bouncy tail into a knot.

"Roo, too, soon." Pooh's voice echoed as his head was now up-side-down inside the almost empty second hunny pot.

Owl nodded in agreement. "We will all be gone by next year. Then there will be no one left in the Hundred Acre Woods …" Owl stopped talking when he saw Christopher Robin standing in the doorway with a look of resignation on his tired face.

"Hallo Owl. Hallo Pooh." Christopher Robin said softly, looking from one distraught friend's face to the other. "I heard, and it's okay, really it is Owl. I understand. I knew someday you would be leaving me too. I've been alone before. I'll be okay if I am again. Really I will."

"Hey! Hey! Tigger has an even betterish idea! What if Christopher Robin comes to Hogwarts with us?" Tigger bounced happy again at the thought of not leaving his friend behind. "It really isn't that far. It's just on the far side of The Hundred Acre Woods."

"That's a grand idea!" Pooh agreed pulling his head out of the now empty hunny pot. He looked at Christopher Robin down-side-back-up with a calculating eye, "But how do we get him to Hogwarts? Do you know a way Owl?"

"I know everything about Hogwarts. It's all in the book I have been reading, 'Hogwarts: A History'. Christopher Robin should be able to get there the same way he gets here." Owl hooted with absolute authority. "We only need to know how Christopher Robin gets here, and then do the same to get him there."

"I'm not really sure I know how I do it because it doesn't always work," Christopher Robin shrugged as he sat down on Owl's overstuffed couch, "but usually what I do is wish real hard."

"You wish? Like when you blow out birthday candles?" Pooh asked, tilting his head so the last smidge of hunny dripped off his button nose onto his pink tongue.

"Well, I have never blown out birthday candles, so I don't know if it is _exactly_ the same, but it could be." Christopher Robin replied.

"Christopher Robin has never blown out birthday candles?" Tigger asked with a gasp as he stopped bouncing again. "But everyone has a birthday cake with birthday candles to make a birthday wish on their birthday! It's the birthdayish thing to do!"

"Not me," the boy shook his head sadly, "The Family say that birthday parties are only for good boys, and that I am as bad as they come. I've never had a birthday cake, or birthday candles. I don't think I even have a birthday."

"You've never had a birthday!" Pooh said in shock. "Well we can take care of that! Rabbit baked a cake for the party. Instead of a Going-to-Hogwarts party, we will have a Christopher-Robin's-First-Birthday-Ever party! Now where are the candles at Owl?" Pooh asked as he started to rummage in Owl's pantry.

"Next to where my hunny pots should be." Owl said eyeing the empty pots and sighing. "How many do you want Pooh?"

"Well, since it is Christopher-Robin's-First-Brithday-Ever there should be one." Pooh said decisively pulling out a fat bright yellow candle from the box Owl produced and pushing it into the centre of the cake.

"There we go. All ready." Pooh looked at the cake smugly satisfied whilst licking icing off his chubby paws. "Now all you have to do Christopher Robin is to make a wish and blow it out, and you will be one year old."

"Really? You would all let me have the party and … and the cake too?" Christopher Robin looked around at his friends with wide unbelieving eyes. As he saw all their furry and feathered heads nodding yes enthusiastically, a lump grew in this throat making it hard to talk. "Thank you everyone. You are the best friends I could ever have. In fact, you are the only friends I have ever had."

"Make a wish! Make a wish!" they all chorused, clapping and cheering.

Christopher Robin closed his eyes and whispered, "I wish … I wish … I wish that I could go to Hogwarts with all of you." The heartfelt wish made, they all helped him blow out the candle so his wish would come true. As the flame sputtered out Christopher Robin gasped and paled as he felt an overwhelming pull from the dark abyss.

"I'm … I'm sorry. I guess you wasted your cake on me. It looks as though The Family was right and bad boys don't get to have birthdays. I have to go now, and I never got to ask Tigger what an idea looks like …"

As his forest friends looked on with horror, Christopher Robin started to become transparent, then in a pale blue shimmer of light he abruptly disappeared.


	3. Wishing never makes it so

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Wednesday afternoon, July 31st 1991

**Chapter 3 – Wishing never makes it so**

**BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!**

The door to the little cupboard threatened to rattle off its hinges with each pound of Sir's angry fist.

"BOY! YOU BETTER GET OUT HERE RIGHT NOW IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOU!"

Boy raised his sleepy head and blinked a few times as he tried to focus on what Sir was shouting. Boy sighed. It was time. He closed the little storybook, carefully hiding it out of sight under a loose floorboard at the back edge of the wall, along with the raggedy blanket. Not that The Family would want the torn and dirty objects, as they had no value, they would just not want Boy to have them if they knew that they brought him any comfort. He thought that The Family must have forgotten that they had allowed him to keep these remnants of the life he no longer remembered. With the smallest glimmer of defiance, Boy also decided it was best not to bother The Family by reminding them about of the small consideration now. They had much more significant things about which to punish him.

'_Such a nice dream,'_ Boy thought to himself,_ 'I wish I really had friends like Pooh, Owl and Tigger to talk to. I wish someone loved me. I wish I was anywhere but here.'_

Boy knew that wishing would never make it so. It never had. It was only a nice dream from the pages of an old storybook. He didn't even know if his dream friends went with the real story that was written on the pages that he longed to read but couldn't. All he knew was that the only place he felt safe was with them. However, not even they could protect him from his daily reality in the real world, for no matter what he wished for - this was his life and as The Family reminded him constantly - he should be grateful for it.

He took a deep breath and forced his muscles to relax and go limp in anticipation of what was to come. Boy knew he was so horrid he deserved what he was about to get and more, but even so, he bit his lip at the sound of the lock opening. Sir jerked open the door and with a large meaty fist, pulled Boy out by his hair, and slammed him against the wall to hold him there by the throat, his bare feet forced up on tiptoe to try and hold up his weight.

"What do you mean by being insolent to your mistress?"

Since the question was not one he could answer with a simple yes or no, Boy knew that it was not one that Sir actually wanted him to answer. The nuance of what constituted a rhetorical question had been beaten into him on several occasions when he mistook one for a real question and had spoken when it was not required. No one really cared about his answers anyway, and any questions like this one were only meant to point out what he had done wrong that warranted punishment – in this case being insolent to Ma'am. The only thing Sir wanted was an apology for his bad behaviour, not the reason for it, because quite honestly in The Family's eyes there was simply no excuse good enough for anything Boy did wrong. Therefore, even though it was hard to speak with Sir's fist wrapped around his throat, Boy dutifully did his best to comply and apologize meekly as Sir had trained him to do.

"I'm sorry Sir," Boy whispered hoarsely.

Boy really wanted to look up to see if the vein in Sir's neck was pulsating as he spit out the words, to be able to gage his level of anger, but he kept his eyes fixed on the floor as Ma'am had drilled into him was the appropriate respectful behaviour to display at all times. He was never to look his betters in the eyes, particularly not Ma'am. She said seeing her sister's eyes in his ungrateful face, was an insult to her family. Boy kind of like having eyes - even if they were offensive. That made him very careful to obey this particular rule lest Ma'am decide that he should forfeit them too as stolen objects.

From the living room, Boy could hear Cousin snickering. Cousin was playing with his brand new state-of-the-art Sega game console that he had received for his birthday the month before. However, Boy didn't know whether Cousin was laughing at him being in trouble again, or at the antics of the blue hedgehog that he was manipulating on the screen. In the game, the hedgehog named Sonic curled into a ball and rolled at his enemies with supersonic speed, blasting them to pieces. Boy was quite envious of that ability. When he curled into a ball, nothing that splendid ever happened.

"You better be sorry, you little piece of filth."

Sir drove the point home with a vicious punch to Boy's empty stomach with his free hand.

"Are you so dim you can't learn a few simple rules?"

"I really am very sorry Sir."

"What else are you?"

"I am grateful for your reminder of how stupid I am."

For once, Boy was truly grateful - grateful his stomach was empty. Otherwise, he knew both he and Sir would have been sorry by the results. Boy forced himself to remain limp and fought back the nausea that was building with each punch. He knew he could not fight back in any way or show distress at his punishments, if he did, it would only mean a harsher punishment in the end. He had no rights to complain about his treatment after all he was just Boy, the slave. Besides, Sir was only punishing him to teach him to be good, so he really should be appreciative of the effort his was making on his behalf.

Winded, Sir let Boy fall to the floor with a thud. Landing awkwardly on his already swollen ankle threw Boy off balance and he ended up on his hands and knees at Sir's feet.

"That's better." Sir said stepping on the back of Boy's neck to push his head down too. "We are having guests for dinner Boy. Get in the kitchen and get the meal ready. If it is not on the table at eight sharp you will have one more thing to be sorry for today."

"Yes Sir, thank you Sir." Boy breathed through the pain as he got up and limped his way into the kitchen.

Boy had learned early in life to move noiselessly, as besides not wanting to see him, The Family also did not want to hear him. Sir and Ma'am hated any noise he made with a passion, as it reminded them that he did indeed exist, so they corrected him painfully whenever he inadvertently made any noise for any reason. Therefore, it was in total silence that he went about preparing the meal with Ma'am watching him like a hawk. This was no small feat to accomplish while still nursing the injuries from that morning's beating.

Rinsing fresh greens to set aside to dry for a salad his stomach clenched at the thought of drinking some of the cool clean water pouring freely from the tap. He desperately wanted to take a sip, nonetheless he knew it was a punishable offense if Ma'am caught him, and he had already racked up enough offenses today. The Family had allowed him some water and a hard crust of bread only two days ago. He didn't really _need_ any more yet. He could wait.

Soon he had a rib roast in the oven along with potatoes au' gratin and a green bean casserole. As the hour was late, he was thankful that the kitchen had a double oven so he could also start a triple layer cake. Boy had been cooking all The Family's meals for years now and was quite an accomplished gourmet chef, learning swiftly at the threat of pain if he did not. Sir fancied himself quite the connoisseur of fine dining and demanded only the best on his table. Ma'am had once even entered one of his cakes in a local baking contest as her own. She had won first prize, so Boy knew it was good, even if Ma'am had never allowed him to taste any of it himself.

While the food baked, Boy prepared the tossed green salad with a vinaigrette dressing along with filling some sparkling crystal cups with fresh fruit and cream. Then he set the table in the dining room with the best china and silver, places for Sir, Ma'am, Cousin, and two guests. As he surveyed the elegant table with a critical eye panic set in as he realized that he didn't know how many guests there would be, he had just assumed two. Sir and Ma'am did not allow him to ask questions of any kind, and Sir had not told him - he had just said 'guests' plural. If boy had guessed wrong, he knew that Sir would be angry. As he stood there frozen, staring at the table in alarm, Ma'am came in to inspect his work.

"It's about time you did something right Boy," she sneered, "Now get back into your cupboard and not a peep out of you. Remember you don't exist. If all goes well tonight perhaps we'll give you some water after our guests leave."

"Thank you Ma'am." Boy was relieved that he had obviously guessed the correctly since Ma'am didn't hit him for setting the wrong number of places. Fleeing to the safety of his little cupboard, he huddled in the far corner and tried to make himself stop shaking at the close call. At the same time that he heard the bolt slide home on the lock of his cupboard door, the doorbell rang.

'_I don't exist. I don't exist. I don't exist.' _The mantra played over and over in his head as he silently rocked back and forth, his arms wrapped around his legs, and forehead pressed to his knees. '_I don't exist. I don't exist. I don't exist.'_

"Come in, come in!"

Through the closed door Boy's sharp ears picked up Sir heartily welcoming the unknown dinner guests into the house. He had trained himself to listen carefully for any sound The Family might make anywhere in the house, just in case it was an order for him to perform them a service. He didn't want to them to accuse him of laziness if he could avoid it. With practice he had become fairly good at deciphering most of their intelligible mumblings.

"Dinner is already on the table. My wife has been working her pretty fingers to the bone over it all afternoon, why don't we go ahead and sit down before it gets cold?"

"It smells utterly delightful! May I escort you into the dining room?" A warm melodic chuckling voice invited. Boy could almost hear the twinkle in the words. Accompanying the first voice was a second one that made a small derisive snort at the first man's obviously smoozing compliment.

Boy could feel Sir's heavy footsteps in the hallway as they passed his little hidden doorway on the way to the dining room. Following Sir's heavy tread was the slow and lumbering one of Cousin, followed by Ma'am's quick staccato beat. Then Boy could feel two more sets of footfalls, the first was steady paced and deliberate walking with Ma'am, the last set was more furtive and Boy held his breath as those footsteps seemed to pause right outside his little door.

It was such a small doorway tucked back under the stairs that unless you stooped down low and knew exactly where to look for it, it was virtually invisible and easily overlooked - the crack around the door following the pattern of the panelled wall and contour of the stairs exactly. It was as if it didn't exist, just like Boy.

'_I don't exist, I don't exist, I don't exist.' _

The Family's steps sounded just like The Family looked, it made him wonder what the people looked like that went with the new sounding steps. Sir and Ma'am had never allowed him to be anywhere that guests to their house might see him, and since they didn't trust him not to peek that usually mean that when anyone arrived they locked him away. Sir and Ma'am had told him that this was by order of someone named Dumbledore, the same Dumbledore that left him there to be their slave, and the same Dumbledore that had told them that he wasn't supposed to exist.

Boy didn't know who Dumbledore was but he knew that as much as he was curious to meet someone, anyone other than Sir and Ma'am and Cousin, he knew that Dumbledore was the one person he never wanted to meet.

Ever.


	4. Meanwhile, back at the Castle

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Wednesday afternoon, July 31st 1991

**Chapter 4 – Meanwhile, back at the Castle**

"Albus, I am telling you for the last time - _SOMETHING IS WRONG_. I know it and I'm worried. Today is the deadline for the first years to return their acceptance letters and I haven't received one yet from Harry Potter. I've sent letter after letter, and he hasn't replied to any of them! Tell me honestly, when was the last time you checked on the boy?" Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, glared at the complacent old Headmaster with definite ire in her eyes.

"I'm sure there is nothing to be alarmed about Minerva my dear, his reply is probably on its way as we speak," the Headmaster reassured her.

"More likely he didn't think the deadline applied to him," Severus Snape the Potions Master snorted.

"I'm sure it is nothing of the kind Severus, perhaps he was just unfamiliar with Owl post."

"But I used muggle post as well, and I still haven't heard from him," Minerva pressed.

"If it would make you feel any better to know, Severus and I are already planning to call on young Mr. Potter later this evening, to answer any questions he or his guardians may have." Dumbledore rose from his desk and gently guided his Deputy Headmistress towards the door as he talked. "Do be sure to let me know if you have any other concerns, but for now I must be getting back to my correspondence."

Minerva fumed as she found herself outside Dumbledore's office with the door closed firmly behind her.

"I told him not to leave that baby with those muggles. I watched them for a full day and they were the worst sort of muggles imaginable …" the Headmistress muttered disparaging remarks to herself as she stormed down the stone staircase past the gargoyles guarding the entrance. It wasn't until she crossed the foyer in front of the Great Hall that it dawned on her that the Headmaster had once again deftly avoided answering any of her questions.

Albus Dumbledore stood for the longest time looking thoughtfully at the door he had just closed on his Deputy Headmistress. It wasn't that he didn't share her concern it was just that he didn't have any answers for her. However, he did intend to get them.

"Severus … I didn't want to upset Minerva any more than she already was, but I must admit that I am a bit worried about young Harry myself." The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes dimmed as he turned to address his Potions Master. "I am sure there is nothing wrong. After all, he is with his family, and the wards have not given off any warnings in the last ten years. Nevertheless, I would appreciate you accompanying me to the Dursleys - just in case. They are expecting us for dinner."

"I gathered that was your plans for this evening," Severus Snape said dryly. "However, do you really think it necessary to take 'back-up' to interview an eleven-year-old? I'm sure it is just a case of the Boy Wonder's holier-than-thou attitude. He probably was just too busy being pampered to bother with common courtesy, and I do have plans of my own tonight."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore said giving the Potions Master a sharp look, "but I would feel better checking for myself. I do hate to impose on you," Severus' left eyebrow shot up at this understatement, "nevertheless I would consider it a personal favour. Shall we depart? We will be flooing to Arabella Figg's."

"If I must," Severus sighed thinking longingly of his simmering cauldrons far below in the dungeons.

"We must." Turning to the massive stone fireplace, Albus tossed a handful of floo powder and called out 'Arabella Figg's, Magnolia Court, Surrey' then disappeared into the green flames with Severus following close behind.

"Arabella my friend, how nice to see you again. It has been far too long." Albus Dumbledore greeted the mousy woman with a congenial smile as he stepped across her hearth.

"It's about time you showed up Albus," Arabella started in on him before he could even bush the soot off his robes. "I only agreed to do this as a favour for you to begin with, so I don't know why you've been avoiding me for an entire decade! Did you finally read my reports?"

"Reports? What reports?"

"I've been sending monthly reports to the Ministry for ten years now that there is no one here for me to watch except for those appalling muggles in Number 4. It's about time I got a new assignment."

"Whatever are you talking about my dear?" Albus replied. The twinkle disappearing once again as his eyes grew steely. "I didn't come to give you a new assignment. Severus and I came to check up on Harry. Does there seem to be a problem with the boy?"

"Problem? You might say that. It's only what I have been telling the Ministry every month for years!" Arabella replied with exasperation, "Harry Potter is not at Number 4 Privet Drive."

"What do you mean not there? Have the Dursley's taken him on Holiday?" Albus replied as if not able to comprehend what the woman was telling him.

"The Dursley's are not on Holiday and they haven't taken him anywhere. He's not there to take." Arabella said with just a hint of malice.

"But I left him with his relatives myself. Hagrid and Minerva were with me when I did. Harry has to be there. The wards the ministry set up have never gone off saying he was missing."

"Well I don't know what the ministry is telling you, all I know is what I've been telling them for ten years, and that is that I have never seen so much as a hair on his head anywhere in this neighbourhood, nor seen so much as a glimmer of accidental magic about."

"Could you be mistaken?"

"No, I'm not Albus. The only child living at Number 4 Privet Drive is Dudley Dursley. I've pried every chance I've gotten, I even joined Petunia Dursley's Garden Club to have an excuse to nose around closer, but those horrid people have never mentioned Harry at all. In fact I have some newspaper clippings here somewhere that might interest you, according to them …"

"So your precious Golden Boy has flown the coop?" Severus interrupted with a slight upward curve of his lips, "then we might as well be on our way back to Hogwarts."

"Not so fast Severus," Albus put a restraining hand on the Potion Master's arm as he moved to wheel back around to the fireplace to return to Hogwarts. "If Harry is not with the Dursleys, we must find out where he is. He is destined to save our world. We must locate him. As long as we are here, let us call on the Dursleys and see what we can find out. There must be a logical explanation for his absence."

"I find that logic and suburbia rarely mix," Severus said drolly.

"Be that as it may we will hope to find some anyway. Now since we are in a muggle neighbourhood we should change into something less noticeable." With a wave of his wand, he transfigured their wizard robes into muggle business suits.

"Not very fashionable Albus," Snape said with disgust. How he hated wearing muggle attire - so confining.

"Well now that isn't the purpose is it Severus?" Albus replied his eyes once again dancing at the younger wizard's obvious displeasure. "Since we are investigating, perhaps a change of countenance would be appropriate as well."

From one of his numerous pockets, he pulled two vials of polyjuice potion, drank one and handed the other to Severus. Severus's black lanky hair shortened and turned a dark auburn, his sallow cheeks plumped and his dark eyes lightened to a golden brown. Albus' own blue eyes turned dark brown and his long grey beard into a neatly trimmed goatee.

"And just whom am I supposed to be?" Severus asked glancing into Arabella's hall mirror and not recognizing the face staring back. He hated it when the Headmaster sprung little surprises like this on him. What's more, Albus obviously suspected ahead of time that they might need Polyjuice potion since he came prepared with it. It wasn't exactly something that one normally carried about in their pocket. That being so, Albus could have certainly have warned him of the fact before they left Hogwarts.

"A very nice chap I met on Holiday in Germany. No need to worry, I doubt if he has ever travelled through Little Whinging. Moreover, it is a small dose. It shouldn't last but through dinner."

"Fine. However, I really do not see why all the fuss. One less Potter in the world cannot be a totally bad thing." Severus snarked as he stomped out the front door and down the walk. "The sooner we get this over with the better."

"But I found the newspaper clippings! Don't you want to read them before you go?" Arabella interjected when she could finally get a work in edgewise.

"We will return Arabella, don't you worry." Dumbledore patted her arm placatingly as he followed the younger wizard out the door.

"Worrying is all I have been doing for the last ten years you old goat." Arabella muttered after the departing duo's backs. "Now it's your turn."

As Severus stormed down the street to Number 4 Privet Drive, he sneered in derision at each manicured lawn and flowerbed he passed. Despite growing up in a half muggle home himself, or perhaps because of it, Muggle suburbia was appalling to him in general. However, the house at Number 4 simply oozed conformity to an unheard of degree. Each blade of grass and flower petal was so precise it looked positively plastic. It wasn't just a crime against nature - it was a crime against the very fabric of the universe.

"How can they live like this Albus? It is so … _unnatural_." Severus asked as he purposely snapped the neck of a hydrangea bloom as he passed by, leaving it dangling on the stem to add a smidge of disorder to the artificial scene. "By the way, you said the Dursleys are expecting us. Do they know the reason for our visit?"

"I thought under the circumstances it would be best to go in, as the muggles say, 'undercover'. Mr. Dursley may believe that we are here to discuss something he calls a 'drill'. How he came to that conclusion I really have no idea." The old wizard shrugged with an air of innocence. "Oh, and Severus do not be surprised if I introduce you as Mr. Brown and myself as Mr. White."

"So creative of you," Severus snarled under his breath. This was just getting better and better.

"And while we interview the Dursleys, I would appreciate it if you left the questioning to me. I know how impatient you can get with niceties at times and the utmost diplomacy is called for in this instance. From what I recall of Lily's sister Petunia, she was not fond of our world. She wanted desperately to attend Hogwarts with Lily, and even wrote me a letter requesting admittance. Alas, I had to turn her down. I did it as gently as I could. Nevertheless, I am afraid she was not happy with my decision."

"Imagine that, a woman who does not take rejection well. Will wonders never cease." Severus observed sarcastically as they stopped at the front door while Albus rang the bell. From what Severus remembered of Petunia himself, he would have been surprised by any other reaction.

"Severus, behave." The older wizard admonished him. The door swung open to reveal an extremely large beefy man with an oversized moustache, which made him look somewhat like a walrus. Behind him, a tall thin horse faced woman with blond hair and watery hazel eyes peeked over his shoulder. By the man's side, a smaller version of the walrus was crammed into a powder blue suit. It was Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley Dursley in the flesh, and in the case of the later two, quite a lot of flesh.

Vernon was almost as wide as he was tall but it was not flab adding to his girth it was muscle. The large muscular frame, combined with the fact that his head sat directly on his shoulders as if he had no neck at all, made him very imposing. Vernon Dursley looked like a man who always got what he wanted, and was capable of taking it by force if necessary to get it. His face was a florid red and had an overly exaggerated smile plastered on it to greet his guests.

'_So this is Vernon Dursley, the love of Petunia Evan's life, the one that she raved about to Lily about in all those letters.'_ Severus quirked an eyebrow at the memory, '_No wonder she does not look like a happy woman_.'

"Come in, come in!" Vernon said as he gestured them into the foyer with a wave of his meaty hand. "Dinner is already on the table. Petunia has been working her pretty fingers to the bone over it all afternoon, why don't we go ahead and sit down before it gets cold?"

"The aromas are utterly delightful! May I escort you in to dinner?" Albus asked extending an arm to the simpering woman to lead her down the hallway after her husband and son.

Snape just snorted and after a moment followed the others, as unobserved, he held his wand in his hand and quietly muttered a locate Harry Potter spell under his breath. He paused near the stairs puzzled. For a moment, he thought the wand was starting to point toward something, but he must have been mistaken for now it was just slowly spinning in a circle on the flat of his palm.

'_Maybe Arabella was right,' _Snape thought, worry crossing his brow for the first time since Albus mentioned the Potter boy earlier that day. '_Albus will not be pleased.'_


	5. Out of Kilter

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Wednesday evening, July 31st 1991

**Chapter 5 – Out of Kilter**

"Please, please take a seat, make yourselves comfortable do," Vernon Dursley urged his guests. He guided them to chairs around the elegantly set dining table and as soon as they were all settled, he started dishing up generous amounts of mouth-watering food on his guests plates. "My Petunia is an award winning chef, so this should be quite a treat," he beamed at them.

'_They will not be leaving tonight without signing a contract!'_

Vernon prided himself at being a shrewd judge of character, and he could tell just by looking at the two men in front of him that these were gentlemen who could seal the deal. They wore expensive tailored suits and had the air of authority and power. Over small talk, he started salivating at the thought of the large order of drills he intended to sell them. The bonus alone would clinch the down payment on the vacation home in Majorca that Petunia had been eyeing.

Dinner was an odd experience for the Dursleys. As host, Vernon Dursley did his best throughout the meal to entertain his prospective clients with funny golfing anecdotes prepared for the occasion. However, as neither gentleman seemed familiar with the intricacies of the game his well-rehearsed punch lines fell flat. As hostess, Petunia tried to cover up the awkward moments by trying to push more food on her husband's guests than what they were willing to eat. Much to Vernon's frustration, Mr. White kept trying to turn the conversation to discussions of family life and children instead of talking business. Mr. Brown, on the other hand, said nothing at all. He just sat there, staring disturbingly at them with those strange coin coloured eyes as if he could read their minds. It was all quite disturbing.

Dumbledore leaned back from the table and surveyed the family of three. Petunia was as dissimilar to her younger sister Lily, as night is to day. Where Lily had been vibrant, caring and generous, Petunia was washed-out, callous and self-centred. Vernon Dursley, besides his imposing bulk, also had an imposing personality with mannerisms to match. In addition, the way their greedy hulk of a son Dudley was continuing to shovel food down his throat beyond what was reasonable, put him well on his way to out-sizing his father. Together the three made up the very description of muggles that Voldemort and his followers touted as the justification for killing as many of them as possible.

'_What was I thinking?' _Dumbledore wondered, '_Minerva warned me that they were the worst sort of muggles imaginable. She has always proven to have good instincts. Why didn't I listen to her? Why didn't I fight against the Ministries plan harder? Why am I asking why now? It will get me nowhere. What's done is done, and right now I had better get on with this before Severus has a conniption fit.' _

Dumbledore reached out to raise Petunia's hand, and kissed the back of it, "Dinner was delightful. Thank you for going to all this trouble Petunia. May call you Petunia?"

"Why yes, please do," Petunia giggled and gushed at the praise. "It was really no trouble at all. Anything for important clients of my Vernon, I was more than happy to do it. Please have some more roast and potatoes you've hardly touched anything at all."

"Oh I couldn't possibly eat another bite Petunia. However, it was excellent. Don't you agree Mr. Brown?"

Severus quirked an eyebrow at the old wizard as if to say '_I thought you told me to keep quiet'_ but he seized the opportunity to throw a few barbs at Petunia for Lily's sake.

"I must say that I found the atypical rosemary seasoning of the protein to be a touch superfluous and the vegetables exceedingly al dente. Of course, the injudicious preparations may have been due to the impromptu notice of this amusing little soiree. However, with adequate notification I am confident that you could aspire to evolve into quite a conventional cook."

Petunia frowned, unsure if Mr. Brown was complimenting or criticizing, but it suspiciously sounded like a slam. Dismissing the troubling thought momentarily from her head she stood and addressed her husband, "Vernon, would you see our guests to the living room? They will be more comfortable in there while I clean up, and I am sure you have business to discuss. I will be in with the pudding in a bit."

"Right you are Pet. Shall we gentlemen?"

Vernon lumbered up from the table with some difficulty as he'd had triple servings of everything, and ushered the men back down the hall into the living room. Dudley trailed behind munching on a sandwich he had made from dinner rolls, butter, and the last slice of roast beef he had grabbed off the platter. Once they were out of sight Petunia unbolted the door to the little cupboard under the stairs. Reaching in, she hauled out the thin little boy and shoved him roughly into the kitchen.

"What did you do to the dinner Boy?" Petunia hissed in the child's face, "Mr. Brown was not very complimentary, and Mr. White hardly ate a bite."

"Sor-sorry, Ma'am." Boy said in a submissive tone. He really couldn't think of what he might have done wrong, he was sure that the meal would have well received as he had made several of his finer dishes.

"You will be sorry if Vernon doesn't get a sale tonight. It will be your fault if the deal falls through. You are totally worthless, you never do anything right." Petunia backhanded boy across the cheek and sent him reeling to the floor with the sting. "Get everything cleaned up and be quick about it and then back into the cupboard before anyone sees you. Remember, no noise, you don't exist, and no stealing food. I am not going to waste anything on an inhuman little freak like you."

Boy got up, nodded he understood, and then silently began clearing up the dishes while Petunia swept out of the room without a backwards glance, carrying a tray laden with thick slices of the triple layer cake Boy had baked earlier.

With practiced ease, Boy quickly cleared the dining room of all remnants of the meal, going down on hands and knees under the table to pluck the crumbs off from the carpet beneath Dudley's chair before they could be ground into the deep woollen pile. It had been impressed upon Boy early in his training that one of his duties was to clean up after Cousin. Ma'am was proud of her Axminster carpets and Boy had to keep them clean by hand. As tedious as this sounded it was one chore Boy looked forward to, as Cousin always left a wake of bits of food behind him wherever he went. Cleaning up after Cousin was the one time Boy was almost sure of getting a morsel to eat. After all, he had to do something with the crumbs didn't he? Moreover, eating them was the quickest way of disposing of the offending bits, and he reasoned it wasn't stealing food since the crumbs would otherwise be trash. Regrettably, though, Cousin seemed to have been using his best table manners tonight with guests present, so Boy found very few crumbs trapped in the pile.

Disappointed, Boy was about to return to his cupboard when he heard someone approaching from the hall. Boy froze under the table not daring to breathe while he watched a pair of shiny black boots come up and stop just inches from his face. Luckily, the drape of the tablecloth hid him from view. As the boots were not ones he had ever polished before, he guessed that this must be one of the guests. That meant he must be careful not to be seen!

The sleek boots fascinated Boy. He had never seen shoes like these before. All of Sir's were flat serviceable brown ones with metal toes good for kicking Boy's ribs. Ma'am's had high spiky heels that she liked to drive into Boy's hands when he had been bad. Cousin's shoes were canvas trainers, the best that money could buy, but hard for Boy to keep clean. Cousin like them though, they enabled him, even as fat as he was, to catch Boy for beatings. Boy himself only had one pair of cast off old trainers that used to belong to Cousin. They were ill fitting and full of holes, with soles held onto the tops by wraps of tape and twine. Since they were too large for Boy's feet, they continually tripped him, making him easy prey for Cousin. They were so big that they hurt Boy's feet to wear, so he only wore them when he had to work outside in the garden.

The boots that the guest wore were different from any that The Family wore. They were hypnotic. They seemed to be made of some type of exotic leather that had an iridescent sheen, almost like scales, and the silver buckles had small snakes engraved on them. The lure of the boots was too much and Boy was reaching out with one tentative finger to touch them when a small barely audible hiss left his lips and the little snakes seemed to come alive and hiss back at him.

_Trrruuussst himmmm… trrruuussst himmmm littttle oneee… trrruuussst… _

Startled by the snakes, Boy almost made another sound but caught the gasp in his throat in time.

'_Trust him? Trust who?' _Boy wondered. '_Did the snakes really talk-talk to me? Could they be … m-magic? __But there's no such thing as magic, it … it isn't … real, Sir and Ma'am said so__.'_ Boy started to tremble in fear and closed his eyes as tight as he could to shut out the sight of the little snakes gliding around the buckles trying to get his attention.

"Most peculiar, I didn't think that muggles could clean that quickly." Severus frowned at the sparkling clean dining room as he picked up the cane Dumbledore had left there on purpose, to give him a reason for returning, and an chance to look around unobserved.

The boots moved away and Boy heard the door to the kitchen swing open.

"The kitchen is spotless as well. Petunia couldn't possibly have had time to clean up both rooms and serve desert in the few minutes she was here by herself. It is almost as if they have a team of house elves. However, I don't detect any magic at work here - most peculiar."

As the boots retreated back to the living room Boy finally relaxed and emerged from his hiding place. Silently he slipped back into his cupboard, quietly closing the little door behind him.

… almost.

Very curious about the guest with the unusual boots Boy left the little door just slightly ajar so he could listen to the conversation in the living room. He knew this was breaking the rule that he was to stay tightly closed up in the dark cupboard when not doing chores or being punished, but it wasn't often that the door was left unlocked and the way he saw it he was already in enough trouble that day, at this point how could it possibly get worse? Besides, he reasoned, they just might say what was wrong with the meal he had prepared so he could avoid the same mistake in the future. It was a learning opportunity.

"May I offer you some pudding gentlemen? I won first place in a baking contest with this recipe. It's one of my Duddykin's favourites." Petunia fawned as she handed the first extra-generous slice to her son as a reward for putting on the powder blue suit.

"Is there a pudding that is not his favourite?" Severus inquired sneering slightly as he sat down in a chair next to Albus, the three Dursleys lined up in a row on the overstuffed couch across from them.

Sensing his disapproval of her darling angel Petunia gave Mr. Brown a narrow look. There was something familiar about Mr. Brown but she just couldn't put her finger on it. Pushing the unpleasant feeling out of her head, she turned smiling to address the other guest.

"I'm sorry I took so long cleaning up Mr. White. Have you and Vernon being having a nice chat?"

"Oh yes Petunia, quite delightful. Vernon has been telling us all about drills. It appears of if they can make holes in plethora of objects. Fascinating as that topic is, now that Petunia has joined us again, there are a few items in particular I would like to discuss with the both you."

"Of course Mr. White, what would you like to talk about?"

"First, may I compliment you on what a charming home you have?"

"Why thank you," Petunia simpered.

"I have been taking the opportunity to study the magnificent collection of family photos you have. Family is of primary importance where we come from, and I can see that you feel so as well." Dumbledore's eyes fixed meaningfully on hers.

"Why yes, we feel family is everything, isn't that true Vernon?"

"Quite right you are. Family is the backbone of the country."

"Since we are all in agreement on that point, perhaps you can answer a small question that it brings to mind."

"Certainly, certainly," Vernon nodded making his jowls bounce.

"I have it on good authority that there is another member in your family, and yet I don't see him represented in these pictures, can you tell me where he is currently?"

"He? I don't know what you mean Sir. We only have the one son, Dudley here."

"And a fine young man to be sure, however I am referring to your nephew."

"I don't have a nephew." Vernon said vehemently his face turning an even darker shade of red, "My sister Marge never married. _WHAT_ Sir, are you implying? Are you impugning her integrity?"

"Nothing of the nature, I assure you Vernon. I should rephrase, I am referring to your wife's nephew - Harry Potter."

"The name is _Mr. Dursley_ to you Sir, and I want to know the meaning of this! I can see that you took advantage of my hospitality under false pretences. You are not here to discuss a business deal. You're one of those freaks from _THAT _world, aren't you? Your type is _NOT_ allowed here. I want you to leave!"

"I do admit that I am not here to discuss drills Mr. Dursley, as fascinating as they may be. If you were under that impression, it was one of your own making. However, before we do as you request and leave, I must ask again, where is Harry Potter? Not quite ten years ago, we left him with you for safekeeping. Today is his eleventh birthday so he is now old enough to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Yet we have not received a reply to his acceptance letter, nor does he seem to be anywhere about. As you can imagine, it is a trifle disconcerting."

"If you are so _concerned_ what fate befell that- that thing, why don't you ask that your head freak Dumbeldore what he did with him?" Petunia lashed out, "After all, it's his fault what happened, not ours."

"Why, whatever do you mean my dear? What _fault_ are you referring to?" Albus asked his blue eyes growing cold and hard as twin icebergs.

"You just go back right back to that Pigpimple of yours, and ask just what he thought would happen when he left a baby overnight on a cement step in the dead of winter. As I said - _IT. WAS. NOT. __**OUR**__. FAULT!_"

"Wait a minute … you did what Albus?" Severus was finally unable to stay quiet a moment longer, his normally unreadable face in shock. "Did you do what they're saying? Did you just dump him on their step and leave him there alone? Were you mad?"

"Albus? _You're Albus Dumbledore?"_ Vernon yelled his face turning purple with rage. "OUT! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE NOW, BOTH OF YOU FREAKS! YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE! NO ONE FROM HOGWARTS WILL EVER BE WELCOME HERE!"

Sir's shouting had Boy huddled in the cupboard quaking with fear. Shouting never boded well for Boy no matter to whom it was directed, for the one who always paid the price in the end was Boy. He had thought the day couldn't possibly get worse, but now it was, rapidly.

'_Dumbledore is one of the guests! Dumbledore gave me to Sir and Ma'am to be their slave. He knows how disgusting I am. Why did he come here, and why would the little snakes tell me to trust? They couldn't have meant Dumbledore! Could they have meant the other man?' _

Confused, Boy just wished that both men would leave, and leave soon, and quit upsetting The Family.

"Mr. Dursley, calm yourself. We will not leave until we have the information we came for. I wanted to avoid doing this however since you insist on being uncooperative …" Dumbledore transfigured the cane into a wand and with a flick of the wrist, sent ropes out that immobilized the three Dursleys.

"There, that's cosy. And we might as well be more comfortable ourselves." With another wave of his wand, the two men's attire changed back into wizarding robes. The timing was impeccable as the polyjuice began to wear off and within a few more moments the men's appearance reverted to their former selves.

"Ah, it is nice to be myself again. I apologize for the subterfuge but I was unsure how receptive you were to visitors from the Wizarding world. It appears that my hesitation was with some merit as you do seem slightly distressed," Dumbledore explained as he settled into the overstuffed armchair. "Now, where is the boy?"

When the polyjuice potion ceased shielding the men's true identities, there was a flash of recognition in Petunia's eyes. Severus Snape! How dare he come into her home! Petunia clamped her mouth shut against the bitter bile that had started to churn in her throat. The other two Dursleys were so much shock at seeing the two men transfigure before their eyes that they just sat there saying nary a word between them.

"Severus if you would please, I think a little Veritaserum will help speed things up, and make things easier on all concerned."

Severus reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial from which he tipped three drops carefully into Vernon's mouth. A relatively easy task as Vernon still gobsmacked at seeing rampant magic performed within the walls of his perfectly normal home.

Soon a glassy stare replaced the crazed look in Vernon's eyes.

"What have you done to him?" Petunia cried in alarm, trying her best to shield Dudley from the same fate with her body despite being bound.

"Nothing to be alarmed about, it is only a temporary truth serum to ensure cooperation and honesty. I used very little on him so it will wear off in a few minutes. He is ready Albus."

"Is there a child called Harry Potter currently living in this house?" Dumbledore questioned.

"No," was Vernon's monotone reply.

"Have you ever seen a child called Harry Potter?" Dumbledore asked with more urgency.

"Yes."

"When?"

"The morning of November 2nd, 1981."

"What-what happened when you saw the baby on that day?" Dumbledore's voice was hesitant as if he dreaded the answer.

"My wife found it left abandoned when she went to fetch in the milk for our Dudders. The temperature had dropped that night. The abnormal thing had frozen to death in the night on my doorstep."

Dumbledore's shoulders shook with grief at this last answer. He had failed what had been his most important task. Petunia was right, it was true, and it was entirely his fault. He had left a child alone on a doorstep with only a note and a baby blanket for warmth and protection. How could he have been so neglectful? How could he have been so arrogant when it came to that precious bundle? The saviour of the wizarding world had been defenceless and in his care, and he had failed him.

"You have your answers, now release us and get out of my home!" Petunia spat out with venom.

"Of course Petunia, we will be leaving now. I apologize for the intrusion. I hope one day you will be able to forgive this foolish old wizard and the heartache I have caused you and your family. My condolences on your loss …"

"Get out you freaks!"

"Severus … will you please take care of our hosts? I really must get some air …"

Severus watched concerned as Dumbledore rose and left the room, he had never seen his mentor looking so broken and fragile - seemingly to have aged several decades in the last few minutes. He wished he could do something to erase the whole evening. Something was not quite right, if he had not brewed the veritaserum himself he would have been suspicious of Dursley's answers. While he personally could care less if James Potter's spawn had joined his father in the hereafter, he knew that the loss would have far-reaching repercussions in the wizarding world, and to Albus himself.

Before following Albus, Severus first slipped silently upstairs to look around. Just five rooms, the first was obviously Vernon and Petunia's bedroom, the second a guest room decorated in cloying flowered wallpaper, then a bedroom that could only belong to their pig of a son, a bathroom, and the last small room seemed to be where they stored junk and broken toys. Descending downstairs Severus searched for the door to the basement and located it in the kitchen. He found little down there other than a laundry room and more piles of discarded junk. Taking one last glance around he noticed a metal door with a light switch beside it, partially concealed by a pile of broken castoff toys in the corner of the basement. Trying the handle he found it locked.

"'_Alohomora'_," Severus cast the spell to unlock the door and then switched on the light. The hinges squeaked in protest as the door swung open. Stepping inside he found only a strangely quiet small windowless room. Severus surmised that it must serve as Vernon's workshop as it was equipped with only a wooden worktable, a large metal toolbox, and an old cot. He summarily dismissed the possibility that anyone had ever actually slept on the cot, as the mattress was disgusting and infested with bed bugs.

"An odd room to keep locked and they really should air it out occasionally,"he thought gagging on the overpowering smell of bleach laced with an underlying stale putrid stench. Returning at last to the living room Severus released the infuriated Dursleys from their bonds. Whereupon Vernon got up and took a document out of a desk tucked into the corner of the room and slapped it in Severus' palm.

"What's this?"

"Potter's death certificate. Which, I might add, you could have had without assaulting me in my own home! All you had to do was ask," Vernon sneered.

"Satisfied? Now go, and take these with you too." Petunia got up and retrieved a large box of letters covered with spidery green writing and shoved it viciously at Severus. "Tell that McGonagall person to not send any more. We don't want any of your Hogwarts freakishness contaminating us. As my husband said, no one from Hogwarts is welcome in our home."

Severus folded the certificate and shrunk the box of Hogwarts letters, then put them both in his pocket. Stalking out of the room, he looked back over his shoulder and sneered, "Thank you again for your hospitality Petunia. Delightful dinner, we shall have to do it again sometime." _… not._

On his way to the front door, Severus paused when a flash of something caught the corner of his eye from the hallway. Did he just see a small movement where there should not have been one, or was it just a shadow? No, it was only a spider crawling across the hardwood floor and under a door.

"A door? What a curious place for a door …"

Peering into the dark recess of the hallway, he spied a small door under the stairs he hadn't notice before. With wand drawn, he yanked it wide open but he found only mops, brooms, and other cleaning supplies. Just a storage closet, nothing moving except for the small spider which scurried back out and along the baseboard, crawling quickly into the relative safety of a small crack where the moulding didn't quite meet the floor next to the door he had just opened.

Closing the door, he took one last look around. Nothing was out of place, and the Dursleys were still in the living room loudly consoling each other over the evening's trauma. Nothing else moved in the hall.

Severus cast one last locater spell. He knew it was pointless, as he had not found a single solitary sign of another child living in the house, but for Albus' sake, he wanted to be absolutely sure. Once again, the wand started to point towards the stairs.

"Most peculiar - I've checked both upstairs and downstairs, and found nothing."

The wand started slowly to spin aimlessly around in a circle.

No Potter.

Nothing.

"The Potter brat had better be dead," Severus snarled. "Or I will kill him myself for all the trouble he is causing."

Deep in thought, Severus followed his mentor down the pavement towards Arabella's cottage. The facts just didn't add up. What about all those blasted wards the Ministry installed? Would they have not have alerted someone that the boy-who-lived had changed into the boy-who-died? Moreover, why would the ministry's wards still be in place after all these years if Potter weren't in residence? It was a costly undertaking, maintaining them for so long. Nevertheless, the house definitely only showed signs of one child living there, one very large and spoilt child who obviously took little care with his toys. Certainly if the Dursley's had raised Potter, he would have been a duplicate of his cousin Dudley, and they simply could not have hidden a second child that large, loud, and spoilt. Only he had searched the house thoroughly and found no sign of another, let alone one that looked like James Potter.

Still … what about the gut feeling he had, that something was out of kilter within the walls of that house? He had felt it the strongest in the hallway, and then once in the dining room, an almost tangible feeling of pain, despair and … longing.

In frustration, Severus snapped off the heads of a few more hydrangeas as he walked by.

It didn't make him feel any better.

Not at all.


	6. Itsy Bitsy Spider

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Wednesday evening, July 31st 1991 still dragging on and on…

**Chapter 6 – Itsy Bitsy Spider**

Hearing sounds outside his door Boy did the only thing he was empowered to do - he assumed his self-protection pose by curling up into as small a ball as he could possibly make himself, squeezing his eyes shut, and holding his breath. Over the heartbeat drumming in his ears, he could hear the man with the boots moving around the house looking for something.

'_What could he be looking for? Maybe he is looking for me? Maybe he knows I almost touched him and he's angry. Maybe he wants to punish me too. On the other hand … maybe he's looking for me for Dumbledore, so Dumbledore can punish me! No, Dumbledore only wanted someone named Potter, not me this time._

Boy could hear stealthy footsteps going up the stairs above his head.

'_Now he's going upstairs! Ma'am won't be happy about that. Ma'am says no one but The Family is allowed upstairs!' _

Boy could feel the dust sifting down on his face when the man came back down the stairs, more loudly than he had gone up. He had to fight to suppress a sneeze as he heard the man pass by in the hall and enter the kitchen. Now he could hear the man moving around in the basement below him. The squeaking from the metal door hinges was unmistakable - it was engraved on his memory. He knew he'd never be able to forget that sound for as long as he lived. Sir would be very upset that the man had gone into his playroom, no one but Sir and Boy were allowed. The only time he had ever heard Sir yell at Cousin, was the one time when Cousin had tried to follow them in there.

He could hear the man coming back into the hallway again and pause right outside his little cupboard again.

'_Oh no - my door is still ajar!' _Boy knew that Sir and Ma'am would be unhappy if the man found him. It was quite understandable, Boy knew he was too disgusting and repulsive to be seen and heard by normal people. To break this rule was one of the worse offenses he could commit, and he was already in soooooo much trouble as it was!

Boy pulled the little door the rest of the way closed as stealthily as he could. As it shut tightly, the crack around it disappeared seamlessly into the pattern of the bead board panelling. The only clue left, that a door was even there, was the sliding bolt with the padlock that looked incongruous stuck on the otherwise blank wall beneath the stairs. However, unless you looked for it, even that was hard to spot as it was tucked up in the shadows of a recess.

'_Please don't find me… please! Just go away and leave me alone. I don't exist! I don't exist!'_

"A door? What a curious place for a door…"

Boy could hear the man rifling through the closet next door that held the cleaning supplies. He held his breath as an itsy bitsy spider crawled in through the crack under his own little door and ran across his bare foot. Boy could hear the man muttering, he didn't sound happy AT ALL!

"Most peculiar - I've checked both upstairs and downstairs, and found nothing."

'_I don't exist! I don't exist! I don't exist!'_

"The Potter brat had better be dead," the man in the boots snarled, "Or I will kill him myself for all the trouble he is causing."

'_He isn't looking for me after all.' _Boy thought with relief, '_he's looking for Potter too and it doesn't sound like he likes him at all._ _I'm glad that I'm just Boy. Maybe The Family won't be so mad at me now for ruining their party.'_

As soon as he heard the man's boots clicking down the front walk Sir's thundering voice started making the entire house shake down to it's foundation.

"BOY GET OUT HERE NOW!"

Boy wanted to do anything but what Sir was demanding. Nevertheless, he knew if he resisted he would punish him even more for his disobedience. Swallowing hard he carefully pushed open the door and crept out on all fours, keeping his eyes glued to the floor in front of him. All he could see were three pairs of shoes in front of him.

He was surrounded.

"YOU ARE THE CAUSE OF ALL THIS TROUBLE THREATENING MY FAMILY!" Ma'am shrieked at him bringing the heel of her tall black stiletto crashing down to pierce the back of his left hand. Boy could feel several bones crush as the heel effectively nailed his hand to the floor. He felt overwhelming nausea as spasms of pain shot through his hand and up his arm, causing his fingers to stretch uncontrollably. "YOU WERE DEAD. YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED THAT WAY! YOU INHUMAN MURDERING LITTLE FREAK!"

"I-I'm sorry, Ma'am" boy choked out doing his best not to pass out from the pain.

With Sir's encouragement, Cousin was the next to show his displeasure at being tied up (and thus unable to continue his video game marathon), by kicking Boy in the side of his ribcage while Ma'am had him pinned down and unable to escape. Over his snickering, was the audible crack of a bone.

"Good kick Dudley." Vernon said proudly, "Those judo lessons are starting to pay off, but that is enough from you for now. Go on back to your video games and leave the disciplining to me."

Dudley glanced back at his cousin with an unreadable look that, under other circumstances, might have almost passed as pity, as he returned to the living room.

"Petunia, let the Boy up, and I will deal with him. It is time to remind him of his place. I don't want those freaks visit here tonight to put any ideas into his puny little brain. I have invested too much effort in training him to have it all ruined now."

Boy tried to suppress his fear at the words. Having ideas was one of the ultimate of offenses, he was sure he did not have anything of the kind as he had checked thoroughly before, but here was Sir saying the guests might have given him some.

'_Sir knows! Sir must know that I almost touched one of them, and that he almost saw me! Sir must know that I made a sound that could have been heard!'_

Sir had finally quit shouting, but if anything that frightened Boy even more. The men's visit tonight had angered Sir more than he could remember him ever being angered before, and if Sir thought he might have been seen and heard then he was really in for it. Sir's fury resonated in the dangerously controlled tone of his voice.

"Get moving Boy, you know what I expect so you had better hop to it. It has been a long night and I would like to get this over. Having to deal with the likes of you makes me feel unclean and I am in need of a nice hot relaxing shower." Vernon roughly hauled the boy up to his feet and practically threw him down the hall towards the kitchen door.

Boy stumbled and gasped from the pain in his hand as he caught himself from falling by grasping the doorjamb. His eyes widened with fear as he saw the bright red trail of blood he left on the clean white enamelled woodwork.

'_Something else to pay for tonight, Ma'am hates it when I bleed on her things.'_ Boy tried to wipe away the blood with his tattered shirt but without proper cleaning supplies, the blood just smeared into a bigger mess.

"VERNON! THE FREAK IS RUINING MY PAINT! IT'S CONTAMINATING MY HOUSE. MAKE IT STOP IT!" Petunia screeched in horror.

"BOY! What did I tell you to do? Can you not follow a simple instruction? Leave it. You can clean it later. Get a move on. NOW!" Vernon shoved him through the door and he sprawled ungainly on the kitchen floor smearing more blood as he fell.

"You can't even walk like a decent human being," Vernon sneered. "Oh that's right … you aren't human, are you? Well then crawl like the dirty little animal you are." Vernon used his foot to shove the Boy back down on all fours as he tried to get to his feet.

Slowly Boy crawled across the floor to the door as ordered and down the basement stairs. He held his bleeding hand close to his chest, to try to prevent any more blood from spilling on the spotless floors than what already had. As he clumsily clambered down the rough wooden stairs, slivers stabbed into his bare knees through the rips in his jeans but he didn't even notice as his panic mounted with each step he descended. He hated the lessons Sir administered in the playroom more than any thing else in his entire life. He much preferred it when Sir or Ma'am just beat him the moment he did something wrong, than when they stewed about it. The punishment always hurt more when they had time to think about it. He swallowed hard as the metal door closed behind him leaving him sealed in the tiny room alone with Sir.

How he wished he were anywhere but here.

How he wished he were living in the Hundred Acre Wood with his friends, even if they were only pretend.

But he didn't have a choice.

He never had.

He knew he never would.


	7. Lessons Taught

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. This chapter is particularly graphic so you might want to consider skipping it entirely. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Wednesday late evening, July 31st 1991

**Chapter 7 – Lessons Taught **

Sir was a master at torture, and one of his self proclaimed missions in life was to make Boy's life as miserable as it could possibly be at all times. It made him feel powerful and gave him one of the greatest satisfactions of his so far disappointing life. Sir felt that by now, he should be running Grunnings, the drill firm for which he worked. However each time an opportunity for promotion came up, he never received it. They told him it was because he wasn't the most qualified, but he knew the real reason - Boy, the bane of his existence. His supervisor offered the unsolicited advice that to get ahead in the company he needed to develop better 'people' skills, and then urged him to find a 'constructive outlet' for his anger.

Bah! As long as he had his own personal slave he had a constructive outlet, and he intended to make the most of it. Sometimes during a particularly boring conference call or meeting, he would think up new ways to degrade the boy and cause him pain and humiliation. Boy was the source of all that had gone wrong with his life. Until he showed up like an ice-lolly on their doorstep, his life had been perfect. Now it was not. Boy must pay the price for that. If by side benefit, Sir got pleasure out it, even better.

However, there was little Boy had to pay the high price Sir demanded he pay. He had so very little, and what little he did have was broken, torn, or discarded. The Family begrudgingly bestowed only their unwanted things on the unwanted little boy. They spared as little compassion as possible on what they considered a blight on The Family, and treated him ungraciously as the intruder he was, forced into their lives unwillingly.

A single bare bulb lighted Sir's small windowless 'play' room. Sir had soundproofed this room telling the boy that he had to do it out of consideration of Ma'am and Cousin, so that they would not have to suffer from the sounds of his frequent discipline sessions. Sir kept track in a special ledger of every expense, no matter how insignificant, made in behalf of Boy's 'upbringing', right down to charging him the cost per square centimetre of the tiny cupboard they begrudgingly allowed him to live in. Boy knew that it was his responsibility to pay The Family back for all costs incurred as Sir frequently told him so and showed him how much he owed them - with interest. That way Sir said he couldn't deny knowing the magnitude of his indebtedness, and could be properly grateful for the effort they made.

The cost of soundproofing the room had been added to his debt, as it was his fault that he was so bad that it was necessary for The Family to spend the money. Boy didn't know what he could ever do to earn enough money to repay the debt, as it grew daily. However, Sir had assured him that he already had a method of repayment in mind for when Boy was 'old enough'. Boy didn't like the leering look on Sir's face when he talked of it but Boy knew when the time came, he would have to do whatever it was they told him to do anyway.

The dank playroom's only furnishings were a rough wooden worktable and a rusty iron cot with a thin stained mattress. Under the table was where Sir stored a large metal toolbox that held a collection of disciplining devices that Sir had purchased. The cost for these 'toys' had also been added to Boy's debt.

Knowing what Sir was expecting of him, and not wanting to anger him any further Boy stripped off his clothes and carefully folded and placed them on the floor in the corner of the room. They may only be dirty ill fitting rags, ripped and torn when he received them, but they were the only clothes he had so he took great care with them. The only other thing he wore was a thin silver band around his neck, but it was solid with no clasp, so he had no way of removing it. Shaking imperceptibly Boy then knelt in front of Sir on the cold cement floor and assumed the compliant slave position Sir always demanded, head bowed down, eyes glued to the floor, knees parted shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind him.

Sir felt a great deal of satisfaction seeing Boy posed submissively, naked, and trembling at his feet. Just looking him stripped of the meagre modesty his rags afforded him, made Sir exceedingly pleased. The euphoric high he got from the surge of power started building. His eyes roamed over the boy's body as he surveyed the network of bruises, welts, and scars that covered him. Boy was his canvas, and he felt pleasure knowing that he was the artist.

Boy wished Sir would just hurry up for once with administering his punishment and get it over with, since there was no way of avoiding it, but he knew that was not the way it would go. Things never went the way he wanted them to, and one of Sir's favourite games in the playroom was to torture him with the anticipation of knowing what was coming, and drawing it out as long as possible. There was a set pattern to Sir's games, he would not be hurried, and he never skipped a step.

The first step was Confession. During confession, Boy had to list all his misbehaviour since the last punishment, in addition to listing his core 'unforgivable' sin - the sin of merely being alive. This ensured punishment even if no new offense had been committed, since Sir and Ma'am considered the fact that he was even breathing the same air they did as an insult to The Family. Each new transgression had a punishment depending on which rule he broke and how severely. If he missed confessing to something that Sir knew about, then Sir tripled the punishment for the undisclosed transgression. Boy had learned quickly that it was better to admit to even the smallest infraction than to inadvertently leave one off the list. Considering how stupid Ma'am always said he was Boy had a phenomenal memory when it came to self-preservation.

"Boy, what do you have to say for yourself?" Sir asked towering over the quaking child.

"I have been bad, Sir, and I need to be punished." Boy replied softly with the words that Sir had trained him to say. His voice was steady even though fear coursed through him.

"Tell me what you have done."

"I was lazy and did not finish three of my outside chores this morning before the sun came up and I had to come inside so the neighbours would not see me. Coming in, I was thoughtless and got dirt on Ma'am's floors. Then I was greedy and asked for water. Because of the trouble I caused, Ma'am had to lock me in the cupboard for the day so I did not complete my inside chores at all. I was rude and insolent to Ma'am and did not immediately answer her when asked a question. I was sloppy and did a poor job of preparing dinner tonight and your guests were displeased. I was disrespectful and bled on Ma'am's things. I was defiant and did not stay dead when I should have done so, and have been an ungrateful burden on The Family ever since."

"Is that all Boy?"

"Ye-yes Sir." A slight hesitation was present in the quiet voice. Sir noticed.

"Are you absolutely sure you are not forgetting something? I will not ask again. And I will not be forgiving if there is."

Boy gulped, it was never good to omit confessing to something he had done wrong. However, he had been hoping just this once that it wouldn't matter, seeing as nothing really did happen - it was just that it could have, and he should have been more diligent. But should of, would of, could of, it didn't matter which, Sir still somehow must was foolish for him to hope that anything would go his way.

"Sor-sorry Sir, I-I was also wilful and did not close the door to my cupboard tightly when I returned to it after Ma'am let me out to clear up the dinner table, and I-I made a sound in the presence of one of the guests and … and …"

"And?"

"… an-and he almost s-saw me." Boy finished with a whisper, his stuttering betraying his terror.

Sir's eyes narrowed at these last admissions and Boy tensed as he finished his confession. He tried to prepare mentally for the next step. Step two of the punishment ritual was Acknowledgement. Facing the truth of his life and admitting what he was. Each time he went through this part of the ritual his soul died a little more and Sir gained that much more power over him. The words Sir forced him to say over and over again hurt and cut as deep as any whip.

"Tell me what you are Boy."

"I am a freak Sir, an abnormality. It was a mistake I was born and my parents did not want me. In revenge, I caused their death. I killed them with my selfishness. I hurt Ma'am by killing her beloved sister and Cousin by killing his beloved aunt. I forced myself upon your charity, and I have yet to show proper gratitude for your generosity in taking me in when I am just worthless filthy trash. I am nothing but a murderer and do not deserve your kindness. I do not deserve love. I deserve to be punished."

"And what else Boy?"

"I am a slave. I am property. I am brainless and a burden. I am disgusting and repulsive to look at. I have no right to be alive. I am less than human. I am an abomination. I am dirt beneath your feet."

"To whom do you belong to Boy?"

"I belong to you Sir. You are my master. You alone decide if I live or die. I am yours to do with what you will. I have no rights, I own nothing, I have nothing, and I am nothing." Boy finished reciting, his voice dead without feeling.

He had said the words so many times now that he no longer doubted them. At first, he cried when The Family forced him to say them, now he no longer fought it.

Now the words were part of him.

They were the only truth he knew.

His acknowledgement of his lowly station in life complete, Boy continued to kneel naked before Sir doing his best to keep his thin frame from shaking with fear and cold and to keep his fists from clenching. He focused on the slivers the hard cement floor was driving further into his knees.

Sir smiled as he laid out a selection of belts and canes from the toolbox across the wooden tabletop. He picked up the heaviest belt and teasingly ran the buckle end up the boy's bare spine causing him to shiver at the touch of the cold metal.

"You have been a bad slave indeed. Are you contrite Boy?"

Boy steeled his nerve at the question. The next step was Contrition. This was when Sir forced Boy to beg him for forgiveness and punishment. He didn't want to respond. He hated begging Sir to beat him, it made him feel so degraded. Every time he thought, that this time he would remain silent, but this time, just like all the other times, he finally gave in to his training. He was weak.

"Yes Sir, I am."

"Prove it Boy. You know the words, say them."

Boy resolutely tried to remain silent.

"I. SAID. SAY. THE. WORDS." Vernon growled and then slapped the boy hard across the cheekbone making him see stars behind his tightly closed eyelids.

Boy gave in.

"Please Sir, please forgive me. Please punish me and teach me to be a better slave. I only want to serve you and to please you. Please teach me how. Please Sir. I-I beg you…" Boy's voice broke and his shoulders shook as he bowed at the waist before Sir, touching his forehead to the ground and crossing his wrists above his head in a position of total submission.

"You realize that if I forgive you it does not mean your behaviour and actions were in anyway acceptable?"

"Yes Sir."

"And if you should repeat any of the offenses your punishment will be doubled next time?"

"Y-yes Sir."

"So what should your penance be Boy?"

The step Boy had been dreading the most in the ritual had finally arrived, the Penitence.

"Please Sir, you know so much more than I do, please choose for me."

"That is not the answer I asked for Boy. I want you to choose your own punishment. You asked me to do this, if it were up to me I'd be having a hot toddy and reading the evening paper, now make your choice."

Boy shuddered, it was never a good sign when Sir made him choose, if he did not choose harshly enough to suit Sir, Sir would be even crueller while administering it. However, it was a no win situation, as no choice he made was harsh enough in Sir's opinion. "I'm sorry Sir, if it pleases you Sir, the … the belt."

"This one?" Sir asked rubbing the wide stiff loop of leather across the angry red welts still visible on Boy's backside from the last lesson.

"Y-yes Sir."

"Yes Sir … what, Boy?"

"Y-yes Sir, please Sir, please whip me with the belt."

"And should I use the buckle end boy?"

"… ye-yes Sir, pl-please Sir …"

"Very well since you asked so nicely I will give you want you want. Prepare yourself."

"Yes Sir, thank you Sir," Boy whispered, his dread building as he got up slowly and moved to the cot. Lying face down on the bare mattress, he stretched his arms out above his head and spread his legs to the corners as Sir had taught him to do. He then felt his limbs pulled taut as Sir locked his wrists and ankles in manacles he took from the toolbox and secured to the iron bedposts.

"You are so revolting I loathe being forced to touch you. If it was not my duty to train you properly I would just leave you locked up in the cupboard to starve to death."

Sir's sad disappointed tone of voice, made Boy feel guilty about the trouble he was putting Sir to. It made him wish Sir would do as he threatened, and just let him die.

"Before I administer your whipping I believe I promised Petunia a lesson to remind you of your station. Which lesson shall it be tonight?" Sir asked speculatively, retrieving a shiny knife from the toolbox. Boy knew it wasn't a question that Sir expected him to answer so he remained quiet, tensing in his restraints in expectation of the lesson Sir was about to administer. He only hoped it was a short lesson this time.

"Ah… I think _Filthy Freak_ fits the situation, after all you did contaminate Petunia's wall with your filthy blood." Sir said with satisfaction. Following the existing thin white scar lines that formed the words on the boy's pale skin he began slowly re-carving them with the sharp tip of the knife. Boy clenched his fists and concentrated on the pain from his broken hand to make it possible to lie as still and quiet as he could. He knew if he did not, the knife would only cut deeper and hurt more.

Boy tried to take his mind away from what was happening to him and just as he started visualizing the Hundred Acre Wood forming around him he was jolted back to reality when Sir's belt bit into his already abused back. It was then he realized that Sir was yelling at him and he was in even more trouble for being disobedient and not listening.

"I SAID TO COUNT BOY! And start over at one since you haven't been paying attention. I want to make sure you learn your lesson this time. And for any miscount I will add five more."

"One," Boy gasped as the belt savagely tore at the flesh on the back of his legs.

'… _one little bee buzzing by …'_

"Now, isn't that better? This way we can both enjoy it." Sir laughed as he swung the belt even harder.

"Two," Boy counted.

'… _two little bees way up high …' _Boy tried to stifle a scream as he felt the belt lashing across the reopened cuts sending waves of pain throughout his body.

Sir was in rare form tonight. To try and force Boy to stay in the present he started whipping him at random intervals that left Boy in a state of unceasing tension, never knowing when the next lash would rip into him.

"Three … four …"

'… _three little bees in the hive, four little bees baking pies …'_

Sir felt his power increasing with each stroke of the belt. In his opinion, nothing matched the feeling of being in total control of another human being. It was complete euphoria.

'_I could snap the little twit's neck and no one would say a word,' _he thought with exhilaration. _'No one knows he is here. I was right all along, and Petunia kept worrying those people would find out somehow and do something. Well they were right here in the house and they never suspected a thing. Now I can do whatever I want to my slave. He's mine, all mine now.'_

With glee, Sir swung even harder, "COUNT!"

"fi-five …"

'… _five little bees in the sky …'_

Sir was so drunk on the feelings of power and virility, that beating the boy was giving him, that he didn't notice the barely perceptible dim blue glow surrounding the boy beneath him.

"COUNT!"

Boy just wanted to escape. To disappear.

'_Pooh? Owl? Tigger? Anyone? Please … please … help me …'_

'… _please? …'_


	8. At the Edge of the Abyss

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Wednesday evening later still, July 31st 1991

**Chapter 8 – At the Edge of the Abyss**

Claps of thunder rolled through the skies over the Hundred Acre Wood even though the breeze was warm and gentle, and the only clouds to be found floating lazily across the bright blue skies, were white and fluffy in the shapes of bunnies, kittens and puppies.

"… _five …"_

"Hi Christopher Robin."

"Oh hi, Eeyore."

"Would you like some bubblegum?" the grey donkey asked plopping down beside the young boy. Christopher Robin was sitting on a hollow log overlooking the dark abyss, with rolls of thunder reverberating in the air all around him. Eeyore blew a big pink bubble with the gum until it popped and stuck all over his fur.

"No thank you Eeyore, I'd better not … six …"

"What are you counting Christopher Robin? Birthdays?" Eeyore asked trying to unstick the gum and only succeeding in sticking it worse.

"No, I wasn't counting birthdays," Christopher Robin said rescuing his friend from the sticky stuff. "I was just counting … _seven _… all the bees in the hive. Why would you think I was counting birthdays?" Christopher Robin replied tossing a pebble into the churning black below.

"Pooh told me that they had a First-Birthday-Party-Ever for you earlier today. I wasn't there. You probably didn't notice. No one usually does. But then why would anyone invite me, even if it was my birthday too."

"It was?"

"Just yesterday, of course no one remembered. Birthdays come and birthdays go and then they come again, and then they go again. It's a vicious cycle. Oh well, there's always next year," Eeyore said gloomily.

Two more rolls of thunder pealed out suddenly and Eeyore eyed the bright blue skies suspiciously, looking for a stray grey rain cloud among the fluffy white ones.

"… _eight … nine _… I'm sorry Eeyore I didn't mean to take your birthday party. You can have it back. I'm not supposed to have one anyway … _ten …"_

"I don't mind sharing my birthday party with you Christopher Robin. I just missed having my birthday wish. I had one last year though, so I guess it's okay if you had it this year. Mine never come true anyway. My wish last year was that Pooh wouldn't eat all my hunny. By the time I blew out the candle, he already had," the little donkey said sulkily.

"… _eleven … _oh Eeyore, I don't think mine is going to come true either … _twelve … thirteen …"_

"What did you wish? If it had anything to do with hunny and that old Pooh bear, it probably won't." Eeyore said sagely with a swish of his tail.

"I-I wished that I could go to Hogwarts with all of you. But I don't know where it is, or how to get there."

"Oh that's easy, you just take the train. The Hogwart's Express. It expressly goes to Hogwarts." Eeyore said wisely, "Even someone like me with grey fluff for brains knows that."

"… _fourteen … fifteen …_ but I don't even know what a train looks like let alone where to find one … _sixteen … seventeen … eighteen …"_

"It's the big red thing at Kings Cross Station with a lot of steam and noise coming out of it. It's kind of hard to miss, unless you're me, and then you probably would even if you were leaning against it." Eeyore admitted morosely watching his friend puzzled. "Christopher Robin, would you answer a question for me?"

"… _nineteen … _If I … _twenty … _can, I will."

"The bees are in the bee hives over in the meadow. How can you count bees from here?" Eeyore asked confused by his young friend actions.

"Please Eeyore, don't ask me to explain I might lose count … _twenty-one … _it is _**really**_ important that I don't lose … twenty_-two _… count."

"I would help you count," Eeyore said leaning over the edge and staring into the abyss from which the unusual thunder seemed to be emanating. "But I would probably just mess it up," he finished gloomily as more thunder rolled out of the undulating blackness below.

"Would you like to have a spelling bee instead of counting bees? I am much better at the letter A. Do you need any letter A's?" Eeyore brightened and asked hopefully.

"… _twenty-three _… please, please, Eeyore, I can't talk anymore. I have to count and it's getting harder …_ twenty-four… twenty-five … twenty-six …" _Christopher Robin was now rocking back and forth, his arms wrapped around his knees, as he sat on the log.

"I find it is hard to count higher than four and a half - one for each hoof and one for my tail when I have a tail, but I don't always. That's why the half. Maybe we should go up the path to Rabbit's house. The storm seems to be getting closer. It might rain. If I get wet, I might mould. Of course, nobody would care if I had wet fur. They would just say, there goes Eeyore - fur's wet again, wonder if he is going to mould."

"I …I …can't leave Eeyore, I have to stay where I can hear to count. I can't lose count … _twenty-seven …_"

"Then maybe I better to get Owl and bring him here." Eeyore started to get up, worried about his friend.

"No … _twenty-eight _… Eeyore, please don't go, don't leave me alone … _twenty-nine … _I think it is about over … _thirty …"_

"Are you sure you want me? Owl is much better at Arithmancy than I am. Most people don't want my help, they are afraid the grey fluff in my head might blow into theirs by mistake if I think in their direction."

"… _thirty-one … thirty-two … thirty-three … _yes, Eeyore I am sure. I just need a friend right now … _thirty-four … _and you are a very … _thirty-five …_ fine friend indeed. Please, just sit with me while I count … _thirty-six …_"

Eeyore plopped back down swishing his tail right, and then swishing it left, and looking exceedingly pleased and exceedingly worried at the same time.

Christopher Robin was comforted by the closeness of his furry friend, his rocking stilled and he now sat very quiet only occasionally calling out a number into the dark abyss.

Twisting the fluffy pink bow on his tail Eeyore sat and watched Christopher Robin count and tried to think of how he could help his friend. However, try as he might, and think and much as he could thunk, Eeyore just didn't know what to do. So he just sat next to Christopher Robin and chewed on his tail while the thunder kept rolling louder and louder out of the dark abyss.

"… _forty-seven … _it-it's never been this … _forty-eight …_ many before," Christopher Robin gasped out, "… _forty-nine … fifty."_

With the count of fifty Christopher Robin slid off the log and slumped on the ground grasped his knees close to his chest and curled into a ball as the last peal of thunder echoed ominously over the wood.

"It's … its okay Eeyore. It's over. I'll be all right now. Thank you for staying with me, you are a true friend." Christopher Robin looked up gratefully.

"Are you done counting?" Eeyore asked cocking his furry head to one side obviously unsure since the usually sunny little boy still seemed upset.

"Yes, for now," he replied softly.

"Come to Rabbit's with me then, it's not far."

"I wish I could Eeyore but I'm afraid have to go back now, if I don't I'll be in trouble again. I wasn't supposed to leave to begin, with so if he finds out I left anyway …" Christopher Robin shuddered.

"But where are you going?"

"Back into there," Christopher Robin said pointing at the abyss.

"I would be afraid to go in there. I'm not very brave. But then, I always thought bravery was overrated. I think I much prefer hot chocolate with little marshmallows." Eeyore said with a shake of his floppy ears.

"Silly, you are one of the bravest, kindest, truest friends I have." Christopher Robin said affectionately scratching the little donkey behind the ears and giving him a hug. "I don't know what I would have done without you and Pooh, and Owl, and Piglet, and all the others growing up. You are the only family I really have and the Hundred Acre Wood is the only place I feel safe and happy. When I am here I feel free and alive, and all the things that happen in the dark is just a bad dream and very far away. When I am here with you and the others I feel so loved, just like a real person, and not …"

"Not what?"

"… not a nothing," he finished softly.

"We all love you Christopher Robin. And we think you are quite a _Something_. Maybe you could just stay here this time … instead of going back? My home is small, but you can share it too, just like the birthday."

"I would like to Eeyore, but you will all be leaving soon for Hogwarts. Owl told me. And speaking of which, you almost left your tail behind again you silly old thing." Eeyore's tail had fallen off with all the tail chewing, so Christopher Robin reached over and tacked Eeyore's tail back on with the wad of gum.

"Just see to it that you don't lose it at Hogwarts. I won't be there to help you find it."

"I won't Christopher Robin. I won't lose it. I promise."

Christopher Robin stood up and squaring his shoulders resolutely, he started down the path into the dark abyss. Glancing back at his furry friend he called out as the blue glow surrounded him, "Thank you Eeyore. I know I can do this now."

Eeyore watched with big sad eyes as the swirling black mist of the dark abyss pulled Christopher Robin back in.

"I thought and I thunk, and I think I better go tell Pooh and Owl. Maybe they are at Rabbit's. It's as good a place as any to start looking if they aren't hiding from me again."

Eeyore got up on his four hooves and started up the path with only one thing on his mind - Christopher Robin needed his help. Eeyore was sure the other inhabitants of the Hundred Acre Wood would want to help too. However, even if they didn't and it meant that venturing alone into the dark abyss to help him, he would do it.

Christopher Robin had said that he was a brave donkey, and Christopher Robin had never lied to him. Therefore, it must be true.

Christopher Robin was his friend.

And iIn Eeyore's book, a friend is a friend, to the very end.

'_Now if I just don't lose my tail again_,' he thought.


	9. Lessons Learned

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Language and mention of extreme child abuse of a sexual nature. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. This chapter is getting graphic again so you might want to skip it entirely too. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Unfortunately Wednesday July 31st 1991 is not over yet, no matter how hard Harry wishes it was.

**Chapter 9 – Lessons Learned **

"Fif-fifty … th-thank you, Sir." Boy bit his lip as the pain from the whipping hit him full force when his mind returned from the Hundred Acre Wood. Penance done, it was time for the final step in his punishment.

"What do you say now Boy?" Sir panted, out of breath and dripping sweat from his workout.

Absolution was the final step, when Sir forced Boy to thank him for administering the punishment that absolved him of his transgressions. As much as it made Boy feel empty and of no value to do so, he would do it, for not only was it the only choice he had, it was also the only control. He had the ability to end it now by capitulating, or he could resist and drag it out with only more pain to show for his efforts. So he would play Sir's game, he would say the words that Sir was waiting to hear - to make Sir happy, to make it end. Moreover, as Boy knew the words were true, he couldn't really argue with saying them. He knew that freaks such as he deserved punishment, and each time it was over, he _was_ truly thankful.

"Thank you for punishing me Sir. I appreciate your kindness in allowing me to live for another day even though I don't deserve it." Boy whispered the required words between ragged breaths.

Sir leaned over while undoing the restraints and a bead of sweat dripped off his undershirt onto Boy's cheek, mixing with his salty tears.

Boy's entire body clenched knowing what Sir was about to do next. He would not react this time. He absolutely would not.

Sir touched the boy's cheek ever so lightly, thoughtfully wiping away the wet trail. Against his will, the hurting child instinctively leaned into the slight caress despite his resolve. When Boy realized what he was doing he let out a small whimper at being defeated once again by his involuntary reaction - his desire for Sir's touch. He hated himself for it, but desire it he did, for as much as he hated being punished, that small touch afterwards to his cheek was the only gentle human touch he had ever received, the only touch in the real world that he had ever known that didn't cause him pain and agony.

"Too true Boy you don't deserve it and you should be thankful it wasn't more after the stunts you pulled tonight. Be grateful I am a considerate man, a less forgiving Master would have killed their slave for the disrespect you showed."

Boy sobbed with relief when Sir released his wrists and ankles from the manacles, as his muscles were starting to cramp. Therefore, when Sir roughly flipped him over and secured the restraints once more, his panic caused him to start struggling. The rough mattress set the raw wounds on his back, bottom, and legs on fire. He felt exposed and very vulnerable. The only times he had been tied to the cot face up before was when Sir left him alone in the room with the light out. Because of the total sensory depravation, except for the bugs he could feel crawling on his bare skin, he was never sure how long those sessions were – it could have been hours or it could have been days. However, he already had gone a long time without food, and knew if he didn't have something to eat soon that Sir's threat of starvation would be all too real, if dehydration didn't kill him first. He wasn't afraid of dying, and sometimes even prayed for it, he just wasn't sure if he was ready to do it right now. Besides, he would prefer a quicker and less painful method.

"Don't you fret Boy. Our fun is not over yet."

Sir was delighted to see Boy's fear turn to pure terror at the words, and thought gleefully that it was about time to break in some of the special toys he had been saving for the occasion. He had waited for this night for nine and a half years and he was going to take his time and make it a night to remember for both of them. Even though he had tried his best to squash Boy into total submission, he was glad at this moment that he hadn't totally broken the boy, and that he had some fight left in him.

'_It will make tonight that much more entertaining,'_ he chortled to himself.

The sound of Sir's laughter chilled Boy to the boy and started him struggling against the restraints again.

"Yes indeed, you are in for a real treat tonight, a real treat. Dumbledore says you are old enough for Hogwarts. Do you know what that means?"

'_Hogwarts? That's where my friends are going! How did Dumbledore and Sir find out about Hogwarts? There was something I heard earlier … what was it?'_

Sir glanced at Boy and could see the myriad of emotions crossing his face at the mere mention of Dumbledore's name – however confusion at the question was the there throughout. Sir snorted in disgust – he should have known the boy was too stupid to figure it out, despite the clues he'd given him.

"That means that you are old enough to start earning your keep around here."

Boy knew he should be elated at the news that he could finally start paying back The Family, and cease being a burden to them, but there was something in Sir's voice – a new tone he hadn't heard before – which worried him.

"In fact, since it is your birthday today, it's high time you receive a birthday present." Sir chuckled low and throaty.

'_Sir got me a birthday present? Did he find out about my First-Birthday-Party-Ever in the Hundred Acre Wood? But … I didn't think Sir could find me there … so how could he know?' _Through all the confusing thoughts, a glimmer of hope started to grow that calmed him. '_I remember now - it was Dumbledore who told him about Hogwarts. I overheard him say it when they were talking after dinner in the living room. Does that mean Hogwarts is real and not just pretend? If it is … then maybe The Hundred Acre Wood is too! And if it is … then maybe my birthday party in the Hundred Acre Wood was real too, and maybe… just maybe, Sir is going to let me keep it? But I thought birthdays were only for good boys … Does that mean I am finally a good boy too?'_

Boy saw Sir advancing once again, the glint off the silver knife in his hand matching the glint in his eyes, and he had his answer - he was still a bad boy, a very bad boy. Moreover, it appeared that birthdays for bad boys in the real world weren't going to be nearly as much fun as ones in the Hundred Acre Wood.

"But before we unwrap your gift, I have a new name for you to go with your new role in the household. In addition, since you always wanted to learn how to read, and Dumbledore seems to think you need an education, I will teach you how to spell it. We start with a 'W' …"

Boy's eyes opened wide with pain and shock as Sir cut four long slanted lines into his right chest.

"Please Sir … please … please don't …" Boy started to beg unable to stop the words, but he needn't have worried about breaking the rule this time as his begging seemed to please Sir.

"Oh don't you worry Boy" Sir finally cut him off by clamping a hand over his mouth to silence him. "I am _most_ pleased to give you this lesson. It is no trouble at all and I am delighted to do it. Now pay attention. Next comes an 'H'…"

Sir continued to carve out the letters and in his pain, Boy bit down on Sir's hand, which was still clasped over his mouth.

'_Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! This can't be good!' _Boy's eyes opened wide in panic when the enraged look on Sir's face made him realize that the copper taste in his mouth was not from his own blood.

"Dammit Boy!" Sir yelped pulling back his hand and striking the boy soundly across the jaw making the bone crack. "You will pay for that mistake."

Sir sucked hard on his hand until the blood stopped flowing. "If you contaminated me with any of your freakishness you'll never see the light of day again."

A shudder when through Boy knowing that Sir would indeed carry out the threat. Never to see the light again was one of his worst fears. Whenever he was locked up alone in the playroom, or in his little cupboard, he always wondered if that would be the time they would forget about him and leave him to remain forever in the dark with the spiders, never to see the sun again. Not that he had ever been in the sunlight in the real world, only being allowed out at night to do his outside chores, but he had caught glimpses of it through the tightly drawn drapes and felt the warmth that came with it, it was one of the reasons he loved going to the Hundred Acre Wood so much. It was always sunny, bright, and full of love.

Boy liked to think that sunlight was a hug sent heaven, warm and comforting. In the rare instances when he could feel the sun on his skin he would fantasize, that instead of parents who though he was a mistake and didn't want him, that his parents had loved him and they were sending the hug to him on a sunbeam. To tell him that everything would be all right and they were watching over him. His head told him that it foolish to think that way, he _was_ a mistake and they _hadn't_ wanted him, The Family had certainly told him that enough that he should know it by now. However, deep down inside in a little corner of his heart they hadn't been able to touch yet, he still ached for his parents. He hoped that The Family were wrong, that somehow, in some small way for at least a little while maybe, even if for only a day, or an hour, just maybe_,_ his parents had loved him, just a little.

If he lost the light, he knew that last little bit of himself that he kept hidden and protected with all his might would wither and die in the dark. He couldn't let that happen, so he clenched his teeth against the pain and stoically bore what Sir was doing to him without further struggle.

"Pay attention to your lesson Boy or we'll have to start over again!" Sir threatened. "… then an 'O' … 'R' and finally an 'E'".

Sir leaned back to survey the word now etched in scarlet across the boy's chest just under two old red burn scars one in the shape of the letter "V" for Vernon over one nipple and a "D" for Dursley over the other. Sir giggled at the irony of the initial's double meaning.

Fondly he remembered when he first branded the baby boy almost a decade ago. '_It is so nice to be able to finally finish the job,' _he reflected with satisfaction. Fingering the thin silver band that encircled the boy's neck he wondered again if it had really worked the way they told him it did, and prevented the boy from accessing his magical core, or if the boy simply didn't have any magic in him to begin with.

'_Well it doesn't matter_,' Sir thought, '_if he had any of that freakishness in him we've squashed it out of him by now. Good thing too – hate to have my fun ruined by that tommyrot. And fun I do intend to have!' _

Seeing that Boy was once again trying to deny the situation by closing his eyes tightly to shut out what Sir was doing to him, he encircled his small neck with his large meaty hands and squeezed ever so slightly. Boy's eyes flew open in panic.

"You are mine Boy - mine. You belong to me. You are my whore. Now say it!"

"I-I belong to you."

Boy was startled to feel the metal heat and tighten with Sir's touch. The silver collar had always been there so he rarely remembered that he was even wearing it, but at the moment, it was hard to ignore as it was starting to constrict his airway. Boy gasped in a deep breath when Sir finally released his hand from his neck and the band went back to normal.

"WHORE - remember that word boy. That is your new name, and one to which you will answer promptly. That is what you are now, my dirty little whore. Since Dumbledore says you are old enough, you can start repaying your debt. And if you are as good as I think you're going to be, I'll soon have customers queued up outside the door."

The glint in Sir's eyes sent a stream of cold terror through Boy's veins, confusion and pain evident on his face.

"What? You want to ask a question, but are afraid to say the words? Do you want to know what a whore is?" Sir teased.

Silently Boy nodded a reluctant 'yes' cringing as he did so, knowing that asking questions was one of the top three forbidden things, but he was desperate to know.

"Just this once I will allow the question, and I will be my pleasure to show you the answer. In fact I will be your first customer, after all someone needs to break you in and I have earned that right putting up with your freakishness all these years."

Panicking Boy turned his head away closing his eyes tightly, frantic to return to where he was safe and loved, to return to the Hundred Acre Wood. However, Sir grabbed his chin and forced him to look at him.

"I want your eyes open Boy. I want you to see what is happening. Dumbledore says school starts on the first of September. That is as good a date as any other is, for you to start your new duties. Your customers will expect some experience however, so we will have to have frequent lessons between now and then to make sure you are ready in time. You will need to pay close attention. Wouldn't want to disappoint would you?"

Boy just bit his lip again and remained silent.

"I asked you a question Boy!" Sir struck him again hard across the cheek, "Wouldn't want to disappoint would you?"

"No-no, Sir."

"That's better Boy. Now, for these lessons the rule about no noise is suspended. I want to hear every little sound I can pull out of you, every scream, every moan, and every whimper."

Boy just remained silent and was determined to remain that way. They had changed the rules on him before and then punished him for breaking them, and he knew the no noise rule was a hard and fast one. He would not make a sound. No matter what Sir did to him.

"Now it's time to unwrap your birthday present, and I promise - it's a big one." Boy's eyes grew wide with horror as Sir straddled the small cot and slowly unzipped his trousers.

"Now Boy, what do you say when someone gives you a birthday present?"

The question thoroughly confused Boy. He couldn't see any present, no box, no bow, the only thing in Sir's hands was … more of Sir. Perhaps Sir was hiding it until Boy said the required words, but since Boy had never received a present, birthday or otherwise, or been included in any celebrations where presents were given or received, he had no idea what the required words were that Sir wanted him to say. Nevertheless, he tried anyway since this was a direct question and he knew he was required to answer.

"…th-th-thank you…s-s-sir?"

"That's right boy, and before this night is over you will be thanking me again and again and begging for more."

Sir was now fully hard as the feelings of domination and control coursed through him. He didn't think it could get any better but then just as he reached the brink, without warning or preparation, he made Boy scream.

_What a wonderful sound, _Sir thought triumphantly, _that sound is going to make me rich._


	10. Neville Wakes Up

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Wednesday very late evening, July 31st 1991

**Chapter 10 – Neville Wakes Up**

"Gran?" Neville wiped the sleep from his eyes with the sleeve of his gray flannel pyjamas as he trudged barefoot down the hall towards the sitting room.

"Neville Longbottom! Just what do you think you are doing out of bed young man? With no slippers on to boot! You should be fast asleep by now. Tomorrow is a big day shopping for your school supplies in Diagon Alley and you need your rest. I refuse to have a cranky boy on my hands. If you don't learn to take better care of your health, I don't see how I can allow you to start Hogwarts this year. Merlin knows you would only come back ill for Holiday. I always said that eleven is far too young for boarding school." The elderly woman finally took a breath as she scolded the sleepy boy.

"Sorry Gran. I just had a bad dream and didn't want to go right back to sleep." Neville shrugged and started to return to his room when his Grandmother pulled him back for a rare awkward embrace.

"Oh Neville, it wasn't about your parents again was it?" Augusta Longbottom looked at her grandson with concern evident in her eyes. She had taken him to visit his parents, Frank and Alice Longbottom, at St. Mungo's the day before on his birthday. She had reservations about doing so, as such visits usually followed with a few nights of bad dreams for the boy, but she had asked him what he wanted to do for his eleventh birthday and that was what he said he wanted. She knew Neville always went with the hope that his mum or dad would finally recognize him and open their arms to hug him. However, they never did. This time he had taken a small cake to share with them, but all Alice gave him in return was a bubblegum wrapper. And what did the sensitive boy do with it? He had put it in his pocket. Augusta wagered the wrapper was right now under the boy's pillow despite her telling him to throw it away.

"No Gran…," Neville started hesitantly, "… tonight I was dreaming about Christopher Rob-"

"Neville Longbottom! **Do not** tell me that you are still fantasizing about that imaginary friend of yours! I understood when you were young, but I thought you had outgrown that nonsense years ago." She chided cutting him off and holding him disapprovingly by the shoulders at arms length.

Neville hung his head in shame, and Augusta softened a bit.

"I don't mean to be hard on you. Nevertheless, what will your housemates say if they find out you are clinging to such childish things? Maybe you _are_ too young for Hogwarts this year. After all, you will be one of the youngest ones in your class since your birthday is just one month before the start of term. Maybe, I should hold you back a year."

"NO GRAN DON'T! I'm okay really. I want to go. My dream just got me thinking …"

"Thinking about what?"

"It's just that I'll just be meeting a lot of new kids soon and I was worried if they would like me …"

"Of course they will like you - you are a Longbottom!" Augusta declared as if their surname alone was a passport to popularity. Neville knew it wasn't.

"But what if we don't get along?"

"Then it will be their loss."

Neville wasn't nearly as sure of that as his Grandmother was.

"Gran? What if their home life is … is very different from mine? That is … what if one of them is abu- … erm … I mean, all the kids I know are from pureblood wizarding families, but some of the new one will be Muggleborns. Do you think they're brought up as we are? I mean … erm … do you think… do you think all children are loved?" he finished with a rush of emotions.

"Are all children loved?" Augusta looked deep into Neville's eyes and stared down the shadow of insecurity she knew she would find there. "I admit that I am not a demonstrative person, never have been, never will be, and I don't apologize for it. I don't tell you this often Neville, but I am quite fond of you. You are my grandson. The last of our line," she said giving him another stiff hug.

"I know Gran. I know you … erm … are fond of me. And I … erm … am fond of you too," he said giving her a stiff hug in return. "I just mean … I know you do, and my parents did … erm … my parents do love me … but what about other children? Do all families love their kids?"

"You're destined to be the first Hufflepuff of the Longbottom line with that big heart of yours, aren't you?" Augusta snorted gruffly. Secretly, she was so relived that Neville was even going to Hogwarts that at this point she didn't really care into what house he was sorted. His magical abilities had bloomed so late she had almost resigned herself to the fact that he was a squib - the first ever in the proud magical lineage of the Longbottoms.

"That's what Draco and Blaise say," Neville admitted hanging his head. "They say I'm not cunning enough for Slytherin, too much of an idiot to make Ravenclaw, and not brave enough for Gryffindor. That only leaves Hufflepuff."

"There is no shame in that Neville Longbottom, many a fine witch and wizard came from Hufflepuff, but I would bet my bottom dollar that you will be sorted into Gryffindor. If you are not I will have to launch an official inquiry as to the reason why. However, that will not happen. Gryffindor is in your blood, and Longbottom blood is as courageous as it comes. Always remember that Neville. You are a Longbottom, and even if it means standing up to your friends, you will always do the right thing. That is what true courage is."

"Thanks Gran," Neville said gratefully. "I will. I wouldn't want to disappoint you."

"Nonsense. Now back to bed boy."

"Okay Gran."

With concern flickering in her eyes, Augusta watched as Neville trudged back down the hall towards bed. She sighed. She was not good with children's problems especially this child's, he was too emotional and caring. She preferred no-nonsense while he wore his heart on his sleeve. Yes indeed, he was a Hufflepuff if she ever saw one. She could see that his shoulders were still hunched over as if a huge weight was pressing down. Obviously, it wasn't going to be this easy.

"Neville, come back here. Let's sit and talk awhile."

Augusta was immediately rewarded by the relieved look on his face. They sat down side by side on the stiff red velvet settee where she conjured up a cup of hot chocolate with miniature marshmallows floating atop for Neville, and a cup of hot tea with just a touch of something stronger in it for herself.

Taking a sip of her alcohol-laced tea Augusta steeled herself for what was destined to be a touchy-feely discussion.

"Now tell me what is really troubling you. Are you worried about leaving home for the first time, or is something else bothering you?"

"I am excited about Hogwarts Gran. Honestly! I will miss you and home … but I am ready to go. Draco and Blaise make fun of me all the time so it would be nice to make some new friends, I am just not sure if they will like me, or what to say to them if they were brought up differently than I was."

"Neville there is nothing to worry about. Most of the children who will be attending with you are from Wizarding families, and many of them you have met before. There are the little Bones and Parkinson girls and that nice young Mr. Goyle and his friend that I can't remember the name of, but no matter, the point being – oh yes! Crabbe, young Mr. Crabbe, anyway the point being you should not have any trouble at all making friends. After all, you are a Longbottom. They should be more worried about if you will like them."

Neville looked totally unconvinced at that so she tried another approach.

"Regarding your concern about having different backgrounds, and being raised differently … well frankly many of them were, especially the muggleborns. Nevertheless, that does not make them any less of a witch or wizard than you are. Lesser ones do not attend Hogwarts, only the finest are accepted," she said proudly.

"But what about love…."

'_Ah yes there it is … the love quotient_.' Augusta suppressed the desire to cringe. As took another sip and thought how best to answer his question, she absentmindedly rubbed the spot behind his ears that had always helped to relaxed him as a baby.

"In the Wizarding world, children are cherished not only because there are not as many of them as there used to be, but because they are so special. The first war took many of our young people, such as your parents, who would have been starting families of their own. So any magical child is treasured beyond measure in our world."

Neville pondered this while he sipped his chocolate. Why would he dream about a boy who was being mistreated if magical children are not? The boy in his dreams had always seemed so real to him when he would first wake up that he always thought the boy must be a wizard like himself, otherwise how could he get into his dream?

"Gran, are any of them treated badly?"

"What do you mean Neville?"

"You know, hurt by their families? Abused?"

"Oh Merlin! No! Never! However, I have heard that such a thing may happen in muggle families with muggle children. Nevertheless, what foolish witch would mistreat a magical child who has powers they haven't learned to control? What imprudent wizard would try to hurt a child who can send him flying across the room with an out of control shield charm? That would be very risky business indeed. No, Neville. No magical child is ever physically mistreated. Maybe a small go-to-sleep charm or eat-your-vegetables spell, but physically hurt? Abused? Never! That is one purpose of accidental magic, to protect our young until they can protect themselves. If a magical child is frightened or angry their inner magic will always come out to defend them. Therefore, even if they were muggleborns living in the muggle world they would be safe from harm from those that might fear their abilities. Magical children do more harm to themselves, what with magic exploding suddenly around them, than what anyone else could ever do to them. That is why you are going to Hogwarts, to learn how to control your magic."

Neville thought about this and tried to reconcile it to the troubling thoughts from his dream. To him, Christopher Robin had always seemed like more than an imaginary friend, more like a real boy who just happened to visit him in his dreams. Moreover, Christopher Robin was behaving as though someone was hurting him. Christopher Robin was so nice and good, and fun to play with - he didn't deserve to be hurt. So if someone was hurting him, he must be being abused, and if magical children are never abused then Christopher Robin must not be magical. And if Christopher Robin isn't magical, then he can't be a real wizard boy. And if he isn't a real wizard boy, then he can't be visiting him in his dreams.

Sighing Neville came to the inevitable conclusion that his Gran had been right all along, Christopher Robin was just an imaginary friend.

All the thinking started to make his head hurt and he shook his head and rubbed his eyes.

"It is time for bed young man, or you will be in no shape for shopping tomorrow. Now off with you."

"Gran, do you think I could get a familiar tomorrow? Maybe an owl?" At the disapproving look on his grandmother's face, he added in a small voice "… or a … cat?"

"Well, I was going to save this as a surprise for when you leave. But come to think of it you may as well have it now, one less thing for me to attend to." Augusta Longbottom got up, retrieved a small cage from the next room, and held it out to her grandson.

"Well? Take it Neville. Your Great Uncle Algie was by this evening and left it for you. He was tired of taking care of it. It used to be your father's toad. I believe her name is Trevor. Silly name for a female toad," she sniffed.

Neville peered into the cage to see a fat purplish toad with a fat fluffy pink bow tied around it's even fatter neck. He was a bit disappointed to see the old unimpressive toad when he had pinned his hopes on a majestic owl that would make him the envy of his new friends. However, the toad had belonged to his father and that did mean something. Quite a lot, actually. "Erm … thanks Gran. I'll take good care of him … erm … I mean her."

"Just see to it that you don't lose her at Hogwarts. I won't be there to help you find her."

"I won't Gran. I won't lose her. I promise."

Taking Trevor and her cage Neville headed back to bed with thoughts about Christopher Robin still rattling about unsettled in his head.

Talking with Gran had just confused him more.

It didn't make him feel any better.

Not at all.


	11. It's all in the details

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Language and mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Wednesday very very late evening, July 31st 1991

**Chapter 11 – It's all in the details**

"I do not say this lightly Headmaster, but I'm telling you that I do **not** believe it. Do not make the announcement yet. Wait. Let me check out a few inconsistencies first."

"Are you saying that you do not trust yourself?" The Headmaster asked Severus tiredly. It had been a long disappointing night and he felt every one of his one hundred and fifty years.

"Whatever do you mean Albus?"

"Well Severus, you brewed the veritaserum yourself did you not? If you do not trust the results of your own work then you must not trust yourself. It is as easy as that."

"**No**, it is not that easy. **Yes**, I brewed it, and I **know** it was perfect. I could brew veritaserum with my eyes closed and it would still be of better quality than that what the Ministry uses. Therefore, I **know** that Dursley could not, and did not lie, yet all my senses say there is more to it. There must be some other explanation. **There must be**." Severus pounded his fist on the desk, making all the delicate instruments perched on it rattle, and startling a loud squawk out of Fawkes the Headmaster's Phoenix.

Several of the old Headmaster's portraits around the room woke up at the ruckus and were now listening in with obvious curiosity.

Severus didn't know why he was being so passionate about it. He didn't give a rap about what had happened to the Potter brat. However, he did care about the Headmaster, and right now, the Headmaster looked defeated. It was definitely not a look he'd ever seen on the old wizards face before, and it was not one that he ever wanted to see again. Behind the mammoth desk, Dumbledore sighed and looked at his Potions Master who was sitting across from him.

"The facts are incontrovertible my boy. I let down Lily and James. I let down little Harry. Moreover, I let down the side of the Light. If I do not make the announcement, it will just be delaying the inevitable. Then of what would the Ministry accuse me if I did not admit to the gravest mistake of all - a cover-up? No, Severus as much as it pains me, I must do it. I must announce that Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, is dead and that it is my fault. There is no point in putting it off. It will not change anything. It will not bring him back."

"I am not asking you to delay it for long, just until the first day of term. One month, that is all. It is a reasonable amount of time to check out all the facts first. If by then, we have not found another explanation as to the cause of death then by all means, throw yourself on your sword."

A small flicker of amusement flashed through the old wizard eyes at the mental picture that conjured.

"Yes I might just do that, I always said I would go out with style when I went. Maybe I could have Fudge hold the Godric Gryffindor sword for me as I leap on it from the top of fountain in the foyer of the Ministry building."

The portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black snorted derisively at this.

"Fudge would probably prefer to be the one to shove you off the fountain instead, if for no other reason than to show he is being proactive." Severus replied dryly. "And now that you brought up the subject of the Ministry … its role in this whole fiasco is one of the things that have been bothering me."

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "Explain."

"The wards - those blasted bloody wards. The ministry was in charge of setting up and maintaining the blood wards. In addition, from what I remember Minerva telling me about them, they were supposed to have been already in place before you left the child that night which is why the twenty-four hour delay in leaving him there. If that were true, would not the wards have immediately alerted you to the danger he was in before you even left? Yet they did not. Moreover, why in Merlin's name are the wards still in place after almost ten years, if the Potter brat has not been there all that time? Arabella vows she sent monthly reports to that effect and yet the wards remain intact, strong as ever. Fudge is so cheap he will not even give his Aurors as much as a bandage if they splinch themselves. He certainly would not pay to maintain wards for no reason."

"I must admit I was so distressed that I had not considered that aspect," Albus said slowly. "It does give one pause to wonder …"

The Headmaster withdrew a small velvet bag from the chest pocket of his robe, nearest his heart, and took out a brightly glowing marble. As he slowly rolled it in the palm of his hand, his eyes grew damp. Severus had always wanted to ask Dumbledore about the marble, he had been curious about it, but there had never seemed an appropriate time to ask. He didn't remember it from when he was a student there, but since taking the teaching position, he had frequently seen the Headmaster take the little orb out to study it intently. He knew it wasn't just another one of the Headmaster's myriad of inventions - this one was quite special. Severus had never seen Albus look at it without it bringing joy to his eyes. Why would it make him sad to look at it now? However, now did not seem the time to ask its meaning either, so he remained silent allowing the old wizard to ponder his private thoughts in peace. Finally, Dumbledore looked up with more life in his eyes than what had been there for hours.

"You said the wards were only one of the things that were bothering you Severus. What else?"

"The rest I cannot explain with facts, just the feeling that something is not right about Number 4 Privet Drive. Something in the very atmosphere reminded me uncomfortably of a Death Eaters meeting."

"Am I to understand that my Potions Master is relying on 'feelings' instead of 'facts'? I would never have guessed you had it in you Severus," the Headmaster teased, the twinkle almost returning to his eyes.

"Hardly," he sneered slightly embarrassed at the implication. "Deductive reasoning is all."

"I trust your … 'deductive reasoning' … Severus. Perhaps you are correct and a little double checking of the facts is in order before I make any formal announcement." Dumbledore got up and strode swiftly to the fireplace, new plans already formulating. Taking a handful of floo powder, he threw it in the blaze, changing it to green flames, and immediately called out 'The Burrow'.

"Excuse me Molly. I know it is late, but is Arthur available?"

Molly Weasley jumped as Albus Dumbledore's head startled her by popping into the fire before her. "Albus! What on earth are you doing floo calling this time of night? You about scared the living doxies out of me!"

"My apologies Molly, but I do need to talk Arthur as soon as possible, could you ask him to step through to my office? I know it's late, I won't keep him long."

"It isn't one of the children is it? The twins haven't gotten themselves expelled before the term has even started have they?"

"No, no, Molly, it is Order of the Phoenix business. We are expecting Percy, George and Fred at Hogwarts on the first along with another of your sons, Ronald I believe.

"Yes - Ron," Molly said relieved. "Arthur is in his workshop, I will send him through in a few minutes."

"Thank you Molly, and by the way - thank you for the pair of lovely warm socks I received on my birthday. It was very thoughtful of you and I am most appreciative. My feet do get quite cold in this castle."

As Dumbledore pulled his head out of the fire, Severus gave him a quizzical look. "Arthur Weasley?"

"Arthur. And I believe it would be wise to contact Remus Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt as well."

Dumbledore quickly put in a floo call to the other two men and soon all were waiting in the tower office, curious as to the reason for the midnight summons.

"I am sure you are all wondering why I called you here," Dumbledore said as he stood and started pacing the room. "I have some grave news I must depart, that is for your ears only. But first I must ask you to please allow me to finish the entire tale before asking any questions."

Taking a deep breath, the Headmaster started relating the events of the day, "Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, should have been starting at Hogwarts this term. He should have been a healthy happy eleven-year old this very day. Minerva McGonagall brought it to my attention this morning that Harry had not returned his acceptance letter, despite numerous attempts to deliver it by owl and muggle post. To expedite matters, Severus and I paid a visit to his relatives to inquire as to the reason."

The three men looked suspiciously over at Severus who merely raised an eyebrow back at them and glared.

"In interviewing his relative's we found that I made a fatal mistake nine and a half years ago. The result of which, may have unfortunately led directly to the death of the boy-who-lived."

Total silence enveloped the room as the three men and the old Headmasters portraits all stared at Albus Dumbledore in total shock.

"WHAT!" they gasped in unison.

"Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, is dead." Albus Dumbledore sadly made the announcement to the men gathered in his office.

"Are … are you sure?" Remus Lupin asked the pain obvious in his voice as the words sunk in.

"Unfortunately there is no doubt. His guardians produced a death certificate, and Veritaserum has confirmed it. You all realize what this will mean to the side of the Light, it could throw the Wizarding world into panic, many questions will be asked, and I would prefer to have the answers readily available when they are - all the answers."

The men were quiet as each contemplated the ramifications of the news, and thought about what the loss of the small boy would mean, not only to themselves, but also to the future of their world.

"Severus has raised some concerns into the circumstances surrounding the events. That is why I called you here. I need your help to investigate, quietly, before I make the announcement, and before any of the evidence can be made to … 'disappear'."

"What do you need Albus?" Shacklebolt asked briskly, immediately all business.

As Albus explained the inconsistencies that Severus had noted about the Ministry's wards, Kingsley Shacklebolt's face grew hard and the look in his eyes menacing.

"So you are suggesting the Ministry may have played a part in the warning system not working? It would be just like Fudge to cover up something like that. I will get right on it and let you know as soon as possible what I find out." Kingsley said stepping into the fireplace, disappearing in a whoosh of green flames.

"If there is something up at the Ministry, Fudge would get suspicious if too many people are poking about. I'll let Kingsley work on that end, what else do you need done?" Arthur asked as the shock of the news passed.

"After Severus pointed out the curiosities regarding the wards I got to wondering about … this," Albus paused once again to thoughtfully roll the glowing marble in his palm before placing it on the desk in front of Arthur. "I would like you to check it out for me."

"What is it Albus? It looks like a muggle child's marble, but those do not usually glow …" Arthur picked up the object, squinting at it closely and then almost dropped it as it startled him, "… or have a heartbeat!"

"It is indeed a muggle marble, but a very special one. The night I … _left _… Harry at his relatives …"

Severus raised both eyebrows at Albus as he said this as if to say 'aren't you leaving something out?' but Albus just gave him a calculated look and continued without missing a beat.

"… I charmed this marble to tie into the essence of the child's magical core within the wards. At the time, the Ministry seemed to have its own agenda, and I wanted a little 'backup insurance' as it were. The marble was spelled to change colour according to Harry's emotions."

"Like a muggle 'mood ring' or a magic monitor?" Arthur's curiosity perking up. "I have heard of new mothers using charms like that to monitor babies. But I thought they were only good at close range, such as in the same house? I have never heard of one that would work very far from the one being watched."

"That is why it was tied to the wards and not Harry himself. Harry was too small, too young at the time. One would have had to be very close by to pick up the 'moods'. Nevertheless, the wards at his aunt's were very powerful and by tying it to them instead to Harry, it amplified the signal to the extent that I could monitor him from Hogwarts. Perhaps it wasn't the best way, but the Ministry warned us that we could not contact Harry again after we left him or they would place him elsewhere. I needed some way to check on him. I couldn't just leave him without being sure."

"So … all this time you thought …" Severus started, realization dawning in his eyes.

"Yes Severus, exactly. Because of this, I thought that all this time he was happy and healthy. That is why I dismissed Minerva's worries so casually, even though I knew that Petunia and her husband disliked our world intensely. As they treated Lily shamefully, I was worried that they might take their dislike out on Harry and that he may not receive a great deal of love. My hope was that he would at least have the basics growing up, and at best - they would treat him as their own son. Alas, I believed all this time that the best had come to pass. The marble has always been quite … 'happy'."

"Is that why we had to visit them in disguise?"

"Yes. I thought that his aunt and uncle just couldn't bear to part with him and that's why they didn't respond to the letters. If he was truly happy, and blossoming in their care, I was willing to wait and not press the issue this year, especially in light of the Ministry's desire that Harry remain in their home until the age of seventeen. But since his parents made provisions for him to attend Hogwarts, I did not see what the Ministry could do once he was safely here."

"It seems to be changing colour!" Arthur interrupted with excitement peering at the marble intently. "It was gold when I first looked at it and now blue. What do the colours mean?"

"Blue, as it is glowing at the moment is peaceful and calm, most likely indicating sleep. Gold means excitement, such as when you get a surge of adrenaline. Yellow is happy, green contented, red ill, black in danger … of course there is an entire kaleidoscope of feelings and emotions but those are the basic ones. The glow's intensity was to be an indication of the strength of his life force. I have had this marble near me constantly since that night. It has never dimmed. And except a few slightly pink hues that I attributed to the normal childhood sniffles, it has never left the gold to blue part of the spectrum."

"Does this mean that Harry might still be alive somewhere?" Arthur asked hopefully, watching the marble pulsate with radiant energy.

"I wish that it could be so, but alas, it is not. However, I would like to know the reason for it, and who or what it is detecting, if for no other reason than my own peace of mind. Since you are an expert with charmed muggle items, I would like you to check it out and see if you can decipher what went wrong. I was so sure … it was such a small yet such an important thing … I can't imagine what went wrong … so very wrong. I am afraid I am too old for this job."

"I'll check it out for you Albus."

"Thank you Arthur. Here is the address of his relatives. You can reach it through Arabella Figg's floo. However, it would be best not to engage the muggles if possible. If you find you must, it would be best they not know you are a wizard. And please be careful, Severus has a 'feeling' about the place," the Headmaster held out a slip of parchment with spidery green writing on it.

Arthur gave Severus Snape a surprised look before clasping Dumbledore hand in reassurance.

"I'll be careful," Arthur said as he pocketed the marble and the parchment and stepped into the fireplace. "Now I must be getting back home, Molly will be worried. I'll let you know what I find out as soon as I can."

Remus had been paying scant attention while Dumbledore gave the other men their assignments, his mind all but shutting down while trying to cope with the grief of the news. He had been yearning for years to become a part of the young boy's life. These last few months he had become so obsessed with making plans that they were all that had occupied his time. Harry was the last of the Marauders legacy. The last of what Remus considered his 'family'.

When Voldemort murdered his best friends, James and Lily, and he lost Sirius to prison for killing Peter Pettigrew in retaliation, it was only he and Harry left. It devastated him when he was unable to get custody and it ripped his heart out when the Ministry denied him all visitations because of his Lycanthropy. Nevertheless, with Harry turning eleven there was one place and one time when he knew without a doubt where he would be able to find him again - King's Cross Station on September the first at eleven in the morning.

Remus had worked out all types of scenarios where he would accidentally bump into Harry and his family at the train station and make friends. He was even going to ask Albus if there was some type of job around Hogwarts he could do, or look for something in Hogsmeade. He would do anything to become a part of the boy's life again. Now that was all gone. It had never been real.

Damn that Albus.

After Arthur departed, the remaining three men sat in complete quiet until Remus finally broke the silence. "Albus, tell me the truth about what happened to Harry. I can tell you are holding something back. How did Harry die? When …?" he asked, his voice breaking as he emotion overcome him.

Albus just shook his head in sadness, unable to speak. Once again, he looked extremely old and frail.

"According to his relatives Potter's son did not live through the first night," Severus spoke up.

"Did he … suffer?"

"Doubtful. Most likely, he just fell into a deep sleep. Under veritaserum the uncle claimed he froze to death on their doorstep before they found him."

"Froze …? Step …? Found …? ALBUS! WHAT DID YOU DO!"

"He was left …" Severus started saying before Albus finally found his voice and cut him off.

"I left him on their front step, with only a baby blanket wrapped around him for protection." Albus said matter-of-factly all emotion drained from him.

"YOU DID WHAT! I TRUSTED YOU! YOU KILLED HIM WITH NEGLECT AND NOW YOU ARE YOU TRYING TO FIND SOMEONE ELSE TO BLAME? I TOLD YOU I WANTED HARRY. I PLEADED WITH YOU. I BEGGED YOU TO USE YOUR INFLUENCE AT THE MINISTRY TO LET ME HAVE HIM. YOU WOULDN'T EVEN TELL ME WHERE YOU TOOK HIM! YOU OLD FOOL! IF YOU HAD JUST GIVEN HIM TO ME HE WOULD BE ALIVE NOW!" Remus jumped to his feet yelling.

"I did try Remus. We've been over this - the Ministry refused to place the care of an infant with a werewolf," the old wizard said wearily. "But it wasn't just you they denied. Many others stepped up to offer him a home - Minerva, myself, Hagrid, Poppy, the Longbottoms, the Weasleys, the Tonks, the Lovegoods, the Diggorys, and even the Malfoys. I could name several dozen families who were more than willing to raise him. All of whom should have been acceptable guardians in the eyes of the Ministry. Yet the Ministry refused every application. It was either place him with his aunt or the Ministry would have taken charge of Harry themselves and he would have grown up as their ward. The only way they would allow his aunt to have custody, was if her location was kept secret from the Wizarding world. The Ministry claimed that they could not guarantee Harry's safety anywhere else because of the blood sacrifice Lily made when she gave up her life for him. That was the only option they would allow other than Harry being in their direct charge. I could not get them to budge, and I would not agree to their plans for him otherwise."

"What plans?" Severus asked prompting further - not that he was interested in the slightest he told himself.

"Fudge had drawn up papers decreeing Harry be placed in the custody of the Ministry of Magic, and to be interned at their discretion until he turned of age."

"What do you mean by… 'interned at their discretion'?" he asked slowly, his eyes narrowing to slits.

To answer that Albus asked a question of his own. "Where is the only 'safe' place the Ministry holds people indefinitely Severus?"

"Surely, you can't mean that Fudge intended to put a baby in …" Severus stopped short, too shocked to continue. Even the spawn of his hated rival James Potter didn't deserve that!

"Yes I do indeed. If he was not living with his relatives, or if anyone in the Wizarding world accidentally found out where he was after being placed there, Fudge signed a decree that in order to 'safeguard' Harry he would be incarcerated in Azkaban until he was seventeen."

"Merlin, no!" Remus said the colour draining from his face.

"It makes perfect sense to me," Severus said dryly. "Fudge could have saved a boatload of money by using the mutt as a babysitter."

Albus and Remus both sent him a squelching look that sent him to studying a particularly interesting spot on his sleeve.

"Needless to say I could not let that happen. I had little doubt, but what Fudge would try and raise him as a soulless weapon for the Ministry. Therefore, I pushed for them to place him with his aunt since it was the only alternative they would consider. They finally agreed," Albus said with a shake of his head.

"Let me get this straight - you **couldn't** let Fudge put him in Azkaban but you **could** leave him to freeze to death? How was that any better than giving him to dementors?" Remus questioned reproachfully.

"I agree with you Remus," Albus said regretfully. "I was an arrogant fool. Moreover, I made an unforgivable mistake. To my shame, Harry's death is on my head because of my lack of judgment. I am not disputing that. However it happened, I am ultimately to blame."

"Then take responsibility old man! Quit trying to find a scapegoat."

"That is not what I am trying to do Remus," Albus replied patiently. "I intend to take responsibility, but if others played a hand, should they not also be held accountable?"

"What is it you need me to do?" Remus asked tight-lipped, anger still rippling off from him in waves.

"There is one other aspect of this that comes to mind, that I would like you to investigate if you would be so kind enough to do so."

"And what is that?"

"During the last war we lost many a valiant warrior to Voldemort and his Death Eaters. As the war waged on, I advised all Order of Phoenix members to make out wills in the event of the unthinkable. I was James and Lily's witness when they signed their will, before Lily even knew she was with child. They named three heirs in the event that they had no living children. With Sirius in Azkaban, and Peter dead, you are the only one left with the right to inquire."

"Get to the point old man. Inquire about what?" Remus spat back, still unforgiving.

"The rules of inheritance are very clear and according to our laws, wills must be executed within seventy two hours of the event. While the Goblins adhere to a very strict policy of secrecy for their clientele, I can't help but wonder why it is that Gringotts is still holding the contents of the Potter vaults and hasn't contacted you as beneficiary."

"You … you … YOU BASTARD! You just tell me that a child I considered to be a son is dead … and you want me to waltz into Gringotts and make a claim on the estate?" Disbelief clearly written on Remus' face as his jaw dropped open and he stared at the old wizard. "DAMN YOU ALBUS! ARE YOU MAD!"

"It is a small detail, but just a trifle odd don't you think?" Albus replied looking to Severus for assistance.

Severus just snorted leaving Albus to shrug helplessly.

"Well … the goblins are normally on top of little things like that."


	12. Not in the Mood

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of extreme child abuse of the sexual nature. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Still Wednesday very very late evening, midnight drawing near, July 31st 1991. Will this day ever end?

**Chapter 12 – Not in the mood**

Finally satisfied, Sir pulled out of Boy for the last time, stood, and zipped up his trousers. Looking down, Sir ran one finger lightly across Boy's cheek again, but this time felt him recoil from the touch.

"Pathetic," was his only comment.

Before he released Boy from the restraints, Sir retrieved one of his new toys from the toolbox and shoved it into place, telling Boy it was part of his training so he would just have to get used to it. Despite the discomfort and pain that it caused, as soon as Sir undid the manacles, Boy curled into a ball on the filthy mattress weeping silently. Unmindful of his wounds, his shoulders shook with the sobs as spasms of pain continued to rack through his thin frame.

"Quit snivelling! It's your own fault that I'm forced to do this," Sir remarked callously pulling the boy off the cot and to his feet, and shoving him toward the worktable. "You have nothing to complain about. If you weren't such a worthless piece of trash, I wouldn't have had to do it. Now let's see if you've learned your lesson. First I want you to write your old name on this piece of paper and then write your new one after it."

The boy stared down with trepidation at the fragile looking piece of old yellowed parchment covered with finely printed writing. It was sitting on top of the worktable next to a very old looking carved ornate box. Next to it was a copy of the accounting ledger in which Sir kept track of his mounting dept. It reminded Boy of the first homework papers that Cousin brought home when he started Primary, where he had to circle the one item in each trio that didn't belong to the others. Cousin hadn't been very good at it. Still it had to have been easier than what Sir was asking Boy to do. Boy wondered if he could just draw a circle and get away with it as Cousin did.

Boy had never written a thing in his life and now Sir wanted him to write those horrid names? He hated the names Sir gave him, even when The Family called him 'Boy' they said it with contempt. However, 'Boy' was still better than all the other names The Family called him, the others made him feel even more ashamed and humiliated. With every fibre of his body, he didn't want to do it. He didn't want to hear those names let alone try to write them. It would make them a part of him. It would make this night too real. It would make everything that Sir had just done to him, and everything Sir had made him do, something he couldn't deny happen.

As he started to back away from the worktable, Sir grabbed hold of his broken hand to stop him. Seizing Boy's index finger in his vice like grip, he drug it though the blood on Boy's chest and put it to the bottom of the paper.

"Write it Boy. First, write your first name 'FREAK'. Now Boy. Or else we repeat the lesson. You don't want that do you?" At Boy's slight hesitation, Sir leered and added, "…or maybe you enjoyed it as much as I?"

'_No! Anything would be better than that!' _

Boy hurt so much, inside and out, that he just wanted it to end. Therefore, if this is what he had to do to make it stop, then he resigned himself to do it. Trembling, Boy tried his best to figure out how to form the letters by remembering the pattern the knife made on his back. Even though he had never seen the scars, he had felt the pattern repeated enough times in his life that he could imagine clearly, what it looked liked.

First, a long line up and down with two slices across it, then another long one with a curve on one side and a slanted cut on the other. Following that was a third long one with three cuts crosswise … _'next comes_ _an 'A' … I know that one … Eeyore showed me how to make an 'A' he always said to the uneducated it was just three sticks …' _Boy made two long slanted lines touching at one end and sliced through the centre by a shorter bar. Lastly, he made one more long up and down cut with two oppositely slanting slices, intersecting the first line.

It was a slow and painstaking process, and Sir was becoming more and more impatient, but he had done it. He had written the horrid name. If he weren't so ashamed, he'd be almost proud of the fact.

"Now write your last name 'WHORE'." Sir demanded dragging Boy's hand once more through the blood to serve as ink.

Shaking Boy did his best to copy the new lettering he had just learnt. Those were easier since he just had to look down on his chest and copy the pattern of what he saw. He did it as fast as he could to avoid adding to Sir's anger. Even though he didn't want to claim the names as his own, it was better than going through the lesson again.

"That's it … a 'FREAK WHORE' … that's what you are now. Remember it Boy. You asked me once if you had a last name - well now you've got one." Sir snickered and then used a pen to scribble something above where Boy had printed the crude letters. Once finished, Sir stuffed the parchment along with the copy of the ledger into the ornate wooden box. As soon as he snapped it closed, it disappeared completely, leaving behind only a thin layer of disturbed dust on the worktable where it had previously been.

Boy stared in shock at the empty spot. '_It disappeared … just like ma-magic! But The Family has always said that magic didn't exist … so how?' _

"That seems to have been sufficient, although you did a mighty poor job of it. Letters all upside down and backwards, couldn't even read them. I knew you were stupid but I didn't realize you were complete moron. It's no wonder Pet can't ever teach you how to do anything," Sir sneered and shoved Boy away from the table. "Get dressed. I won't have you taking a lay about when you still haven't finished your chores. You have two minutes," and then he was gone.

Boy hurried to do as ordered, wincing with pain as he pulled on his tattered clothes. After Sir's lesson, it was awkward to walk, and as he moved, the rough cloth caught and pulled, making the broken skin start to bleed again. Stumbling up the basement stairs, he found Sir waiting for him in the kitchen, eating a large slice of the leftover cake. Boy's stomach rumbled at the sight of the food and watched enviously as Sir took another enormous bite before dropping the rest of the half-eaten snack down the garbage disposal.

"It's about time. Now clean up your mess." Sir pointed to the blood on the doorframe and floor and threw a rag and scrub brush in his face. "Be quick about it, I haven't got all night."

Under Sir's watchful eye, Boy scrambled to scrub the woodwork and floors until they shone. All traces of his freakish blood gone. Boy just wished he could scrub the traces of Sir off from his skin the same way, but he didn't think that would ever come completely off now, not even if he used steel wool and bleach.

When the task was finished to Sir's satisfaction, Sir locked a long chain to the collar around Boy's neck and dragged him into the moonlit backyard. Securing the other end of the leash to a stake spiralled into the centre of the lawn; he then thrust a weeding tool into boy's broken hand.

"Now get to it, and this time you have better finish before daybreak if you want anything to eat." He turned and headed back into the house, pausing just before he entered to look back at Boy standing small, alone, and broken in the centre of the dark garden.

"You do know don't you - that no one else will ever love you when they find out what you are? We're the only ones who would give a freak like you a home out of the kindness of our hearts. If it weren't for us, you would be in prison or dead. You should be grateful I gave you a way to start paying us back."

As the back door slammed shut behind him, Boy collapsed to the ground.

A few minutes later Petunia could hear the water running as Vernon took a long hot shower to scrub all of Boy's freakishness off from him.

'_He certainly seems in a good mood tonight,' _Petunia thought as she heard him start to belt out some bars of a tuneless melody at the top of his lungs. '_Well I certainly didn't marry him for his singing ability. So why did I marry him?'_

Sitting up in bed, she fluffed the satin covered pillows and piled them behind her back, then pulled back the covers invitingly to wait for her husband to join her. The longer she waited the more she thought about how the evening had turned into a shambles and about one guest in particular.

Vernon had been down in the playroom beating the freak again, but tonight he took longer than normal. Of course, Vernon had mentioned he was going to have the boy sign the contract tonight, and it would have taken time to explain it to him and to force him to sign. Because of course, he wouldn't do it willingly, not when he found out what it was. Who would?

Petunia wrinkled her brow and pondered the likely scene. Could the freak even sign it? She had to wonder – Vernon hadn't wanted to waste the money to send him to school, and she had never had the patience to try and teach him how to read and write. It had been hard enough on her, just to teach him how to cook and do chores. Besides, why bother? All he really needed to know was how to count, and that he did need to know so he could follow her instructions. When she told him to scrub the floor four times, she wanted it done exactly four times - not three, not five. If he knew what she meant, and he did it wrong anyway, she felt justified in punishing him for a sloppy job. Petunia prided herself on being fair.

When she had told Vernon that the freak needed to be able to count, Vernon had taught him fairly quickly by making him count out the lashes as he whipped him, starting over at 'one' each time he made a mistake until the boy could count higher than ten quite accurately. Therefore, Vernon probably taught him his letters the same way. Well it didn't matter to her how he accomplished it, if Vernon said he was going to have the boy sign it, he would find a way to teach him to write his name. That was one of Vernon's strong suits - the ability to coerce people into doing anything he wanted them too.

Besides, she justified, the boy's punishment would have taken longer tonight as Vernon promised to give the little freak a few extra belts for her since he'd been more annoying than usual today. Whining about needing a drink of water this morning, then making her look like a bad cook with dinner tonight, and once she even thought she heard him laughing at her from the cupboard. He deserved everything he got. After all, it was his fault she had married Vernon. It was his fault that she was stuck in this nightmare of a life.

Petunia had married Vernon out of desperation - trapped into the situation by social mores. Not having a beau of her own, she had been jealous when her little sister announced her pending wedding to her 'positively perfect' James Potter. At the time, Petunia was working as a secretary for a firm that manufactured drills, and had been bragging to Lily that one of the General Managers was thoroughly smitten with her, and boasted about how dashing and manly he was. When in reality he had never given her the time of day. She actually had a strong attraction to a certain tall, dark and brooding friend of Lily's with smouldering good looks.

They had met him as children in a park at their old neighbourhood. Severus was a scrawny ugly boy but Lily thought he was funny and he told them all about how wonderful it was to be magical. Petunia wanted to be wonderful too. She tried, but she couldn't do any of the things that Lily and Severus could do. At first, she had tried to keep Lily from paying attention to Severus. It then slowly evolved into trying to make Severus pay attention to her instead. The more he ignored her, the more she played haughty and hard to get. However, she never meant not to be gotten at all! Petunia had hoped that through all her lengthy letters, which she had a hunch that Lily shared with him, that Severus Snape would come to see she was a woman desired by other men, and come to court her as well.

When Lily invited her and her beau to her wedding so she could meet Vernon, Petunia couldn't keep up the sham any longer, had gotten drunk, and threw herself at the man. Two months later when she found out she was pregnant, she was about to have an abortion when Lily announced she was going to have a baby too. Petunia couldn't let Lily be first again. She had been the first witch in the family, the first in her class at that freak school of hers, the first to date, the first engaged, the first to be married, and now … and now Petunia finally had her chance. She was a month farther along. She could be the first this time. She could provide her parents with their first grandchild. Then they would have to be proud of her and not Lily. Lily … she even had the better name to go with her better life. Their parents had named her after a vibrant exotic flower, not just a common lowly everyday plain plant like a petunia.

That was how Petunia came to marry Vernon, and have Dudley.

She was finally first at something.

It was then that Petunia discovered Vernon's sadistic bent.

It was also when she discovered that being first wasn't always what it was cracked up to be.

She was in the midst of planning to take Dudley and run, when Lily had to go and get herself killed. They said she did it trying to protect that freak child of hers, and what did Lily's 'wonderful' magical world – the one that took great delight in snubbing her - do to Petunia in return? Why they dumped her sister's orphan baby on her to take care of without so much as a by your leave! What was fair about that? Maybe she had something better to do!

If it weren't for the freak, she could have divorced Vernon and left him in the dust. However, Petunia had never been good at making friends, so with Lily dead there was now nowhere, and no one to run too. Moreover, with Death Eaters waiting to kill anyone associated with the Potters, she was stuck here - in a house Vernon ruled, behind the protection of the blood wards. She was as much trapped in her plushy satin bedroom, as the Freak was in the cupboard under the stairs. Just three months before Lily and James died, Death Eaters had tortured and killed her parents trying to get information on the Potter's location to get their hands on their child, so Petunia knew without a doubt that the danger to her family was real.

The more she thought about it the more she was convinced it really was entirely that freak's fault. If he had never existed, if Lily had never gotten pregnant with him, Petunia could have had the abortion and no one would have been the wiser. If the freak had never existed, her parents would still be alive and she would have had somewhere to go to escape Vernon. If he never existed, her life would have been different. Her life would have been better.

And then almost a decade later Severus Snape, her unrequited love, shows up for dinner, and not only does he sneer at her home and family, make nasty comments about dinner and slam her housekeeping abilities, he doesn't even seem to recognize her. That was probably the freak's fault too, it was the freak Severus had come for … the freak … not her. No, _no one_ ever came for little Petunia, _no one_ ever wanted to rescue _her_.

The freak deserved everything he got for destroying her family and ruining her life, if not more.

"Miss me Pet?" Vernon asked sliding in between the sheets and giving Petunia a damp peck on the cheek snapping her out of her reverie.

"Of course I did Snookums," Petunia replied snuggling back down into the soft fluffy bed. "Is it done then?"

"Yes it's done. The contract is signed, sealed and delivered."

"Did he give you any trouble about it?"

"Not a bit."

"I'm surprised the boy didn't fight it when you told him what he was signing away. My sister was always very independent and stubborn, and so was that husband of hers too. I would have thought they'd have passed that trait along. Guess he is a freak if he would sign that easy."

"Well … I didn't _exactly_ tell him."

"Wait a minute Vernon … what did you just say?"

"You heard me Pet. I said that I didn't _exactly_ tell him what he was signing. I just ordered him to do it."

"Vernon! Shouldn't he at least know what the contract said that he signed? What he was giving up? You know he can't read." A thread of doubt starting to unravel a tiny corner of her carefully built shield of uncaring. "There were terms in that contract that he has to live up to now. I won't be responsible if he doesn't."

"I thought it over, and I didn't see the need to complicate matters. We've been telling him for almost ten years now that he was our slave, it would have just confused his pea brain to mention that he actually wasn't until he signed that contract of indebtedness. As far as turning over his 'worldly goods' … pish posh … there wasn't much for him to give up was there? All there was to list was a ratty old blanket and that dog-eared book. I certainly don't have any use for them, so when I find where the little freak hid them I'll burn them. Don't you worry your pretty head over it, what's done is done."

"But what if he breaks the contract without knowing it?"

"As if I care," Vernon chortled.

"It'll come back to bite us in the arse. You know it will. Those freaks will hold us responsible. I won't have it Vernon. You tell him or I will."

"Nonsense. There's no need to get your knickers in a twist Pet. The contract says if the boy does break the contract _he'll_ be the one the magic will punish - not us. We are blameless, totally in the clear. Besides what's for him to know? We already trained him to be an obedient slave, and with that collar on him to ensure it now, we can just go on telling him as little as possible, just what he needs to know, when he needs to know it. If it punishes him as they say it will … well then it will only be because he was being disobedient anyway and he will deserve it. It's a pointless waste of time to try and explain anything to him. He's not too smart that one, definite limited mental capacity, nothing like our Dudders who's as smart as a whip just like his old man. Why, he couldn't even write his letters properly. Pathetic," Vernon snorted. "It's much easier on him this way."

"But you should have at least told him the rules." Petunia said the thread of doubt now taking on a frayed edge of guilt. She hated the boy but still …

"Rubbish! I don't want the little freak getting any ideas. He owes us for all we've done for him - taking him in, giving him a roof over his head, feeding him, clothing him, giving him a place to sleep. After the Coroner declared him dead, we could have just dumped his cold lifeless carcass in the rubbish bin and been done with it. Nevertheless, kind-hearted people that we are, we took his frozen dead body into our home to prepare him for a decent burial, and how did the little freak repay us for our charity? He thaws out and come back to life. That's what he does."

"You're right snookums that was rather defiant of him."

"Too true Pet, I've said it once and I'll say it again, if the boy had had any sense about him he would have just stayed dead. He was just asking for it, taking another breath in this world. He's just been a burden and inconvenience to our family ever since."

"But still …"

"There are no 'buts' about it Petunia, and I am not in the mood to argue. I have invested too much time and effort in training him to do exactly what I want him to do to chuck it all now … it is just getting fun."

"What do you mean by 'getting fun'? Just what did you do Vernon?" Petunia was slightly alarmed at the lascivious look in his eyes.

"Only that I taught him how to carry out his new duties as a whore," Vernon smirked.

"_A WHAT?_ You didn't! Vernon! I thought you were at least going to leave _that_ to _those_ people. It's probably commonplace in their freaky world, otherwise why would they even have such contracts? And what if they find out what you did? You saw how all those letters were addressed. They know things! They have ways!"

"I am not worried one fig about them finding out anymore. Your great freaky Dumbledore was right here in this house tonight, and left none the wiser. I tell you _no one_ cares what we do to the boy. Besides, I earned the right to break him in after putting up with his freakishness all these years. I read that contract. I know what it said. If those freaks didn't want us to know what they were up to, they shouldn't have left it just lying about where we could read it. Pretty short sighted of them if you ask me," Vernon rationalized.

"Vernon, it wasn't just 'lying about'. You told me it was inside a box, which was inside a file, which was inside a closed drawer. You _stole_ it from them. You're just lucky no one has noticed it missing yet."

"I did no such thing. I will have you know, I am no common thief! The name 'Dursley' was on that file, plain as day. I had every right to anything in it. Besides, if I don't look out for our families best interests who would? Those freaks? The same ones that dumped the boy on us to begin with? I don't think so."

Petunia didn't have an answer for that and Vernon knew it. The whole dumping the kid on their doorstep in the middle of the night and running away irked her as much as it did him.

"If they had signed the contract instead of me, the boy would have been their slave instead of ours. Then where would we have been? Getting the short end of the stick again, I tell you. We do all the work and they get all the benefit."

"But the money …"

"What money?" Vernon scoffed. "The mere pittance they were going to pay us for him? No, this way we'll make a lot more. I can rent him out nightly to those freaks for a pretty penny. I've seen those coins they toss about as if they are worth nothing. Pure gold and silver I tell you. We'll be rich."

"But at least we would have been rid of the boy once and for all," Petunia whined.

"I did what I had to do for the future of our family, and you agreed to it. As I said - what's done is done. Now drop it," he said threateningly.

"Yes Vernon, whatever you say, you know best." Petunia replied intimidated by the menacing tone in his voice.

"Yes I do. Now we have a bargaining chip if those freaks try to give us any trouble."

"But what about the boy? What if he finds out what we did and starts acting up?"

"If the freak gets to be too much of a bother I'll just snap his scrawny little neck and bury him under the rosebushes for fertilizer."

"You'd actually … murder him?" Petunia gasped. "I don't think those freaks would be very happy about that."

"It wouldn't be murder Pet - I've got it all figured out. I've already got a death certificate from the first time he died. You can't murder someone who is already dead." Vernon said practically. "And it's not like he was a real person or anything, he's just property and I will do what I please with my own property. Besides, it's not as if anyone would notice he's missing. In addition, it stipulated in the contract that I now have the right as his master to kill him if I feel like it, without even needing a reason and none of those freaks can do a whit about it. I won't even have to try and contain myself during his 'lessons' from now on, and you know how hard that has been on my blood pressure."

"Yes dear, it has been hard on you, hasn't it?" Petunia sympathized dryly. "Where is the little freak now? Did you put him back in the cupboard?"

"Heaven's no Pet! Plenty of work for him to do and he'd just been lazing around all day as it was, the ungrateful slacker. He admitted to not finishing his chores so I put him to work in the yard."

"Fine, I'll set the alarm so I can bring him in early. That Figg woman has been poking around again."

"Never mind her. She's just an old biddy. Now come here my pet, I need a little sugar …" he leered at her and patted the spot on the mattress next to him enticingly.

"Not tonight Vernon. I'm not in the mood. Besides, you already _**got**_ yours and I have a headache." Fluffing her pillow with her fist Petunia rolled over, turning her back firmly to Vernon and his advances. She was thoroughly disgusted at the thought that she was now sharing her bed with a paedophile. Moreover, if he thought that after he had been thrusting into that filthy freak for hours, that she was going to let him turn around and shove it into her, he had another thing coming. Shower or not, she had her limits.

She didn't mind him taking his anger out on the boy by beating him senseless every now and again. After all, it was better than if he took his rage out on her or Dudley and it did make Vernon more agreeable the rest of the time. She herself had found that venting her stress and frustration through a little physical violence to the boy to be very liberating.

Come to think about it, if the boy was gone, she would have to start cooking the meals again, and he did do all the chores around the house and yard. She supposed Vernon was right and it would be better if they kept him around instead of letting those people take him. As much as she despised the freak, she had to admit he was useful at times, after all what could be more perfect to use as a punching bag than an underage wizard who was self-healing? It wasn't as if they were really hurting him she justified. No matter how much he was tortured and beaten, he kept getting back up and taking more, and thanking them for it. Of course, that was credit to Vernon's unrelenting training.

Still, it just wasn't normal.

No, Vernon was right, nobody cared what they did to him, and why should they? The boy was a freak, less than human.

Nevertheless - what Vernon did to the boy tonight?

That … that was going too far.


	13. Mission Accomplished

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Wednesday five minutes to midnight, July 31st 1991

**Chapter 13 – Mission Accomplished**

Dudley huffed heavily as he heaved himself up from his kneeling position in the hallway outside his parent's bedroom door. He had been eavesdropping on their conversation with his ear pressed to the keyhole. While he didn't understand most of what his parents were talking about, he did understand one thing - his freaky little cousin was now a whore and had to do everything anyone told him to do. If he didn't, his father would kill him and bury him in the back yard.

Something about that just didn't sit right to Dudley.

He and his best friends, Piers, Dennis, and Malcolm had heard all about whores from the older kids on the playground. Fascinated by the tales they saved up their money and skipped school one day to take the bus to London to see them. The little freak that lived under their stairs didn't look anything like the long legged scantily clad women they had ogled on the street corner. Besides, Dudley knew that Boy had never even been on a street corner in London, let alone the corner of Privet Drive and Magnolia Court. He didn't think that his cousin had ever been farther than the fence around the yard in his entire life.

Dudley padded as quietly as he could down the stairs, carefully stepping over the third from the bottom stair that was prone to squeak loudly if stepped on wrong. Pausing before the door to the little hidden cupboard, he bent down to push something under the crack but at the last minute changed his mind and pulled it back. It was an almost new Number 2 pencil, which even had a bit of eraser still attached. Frowning, Dudley quickly made a decision and snapped it cleanly in two before reaching back down and shoving the pieces under the door.

Dudley Dursley was not a very complicated boy, but he lived a very complicated life. To the outside world, his parents wanted him to be both normal and exceptional at the same time. His mother doted on him, exclaiming he could do no wrong, extolling his many virtues to anyone who was close enough to listen to the point of being smothering. It was downright embarrassing when she did it around his friends. His father, on the other hand demand he be 'normal', which to Vernon Dursley was defined as being a carbon copy of Vernon Dursley. The trouble was that Dudley knew he wasn't 'exceptional' but he wasn't sure he wanted to be 'normal', if that meant being like his father.

Around his parents, Dudley always acted as they expected him to, as he knew that was the best way to keep on their good side and earn their love. He'd seen first hand the result of someone who hadn't, and he was positive didn't want to be treated like his cousin the freak was. He didn't know what his cousin had done to begin with to get on their bad side, but Dudley was determined not to make the same mistake. Therefore, when his father told him that he was a growing boy, who needed to 'bulk up' and eat more - he took another helping. And when his mother told him that he was too delicate to do chores, he made the freak do them for him.

Dudley was everything that his parents wanted him to be. He was what they made him.

However deep inside Dudley also had a mind of his own, even though he rarely used it or let it show. Doing that, he found out a long time ago was _not_ a good idea around his parents. Especially if he disagreed with them – then they wanted to hear what he had to say just as much as they did his freaky little cousin. Therefore, Dudley usually kept his real thoughts to himself because … well … he usually did disagree.

One thing he thought a lot about was his freaky little cousin. It was kind of hard not to after growing up with him. Once when he was much younger and none of his friends could come over, he had tried to play with him. Only his mother had a conniption fit, and screamed at Boy for touching his toys. Then she hit him in the head with a frying pan. It taught Dudley that it was much better for his cousin if he didn't let him touch any of his toys - ever again. From then on, if Boy even came near one of his toys, he would throw a tantrum to warn him away.

Another time Dudley had noticed Boy looking so hungry he thought he might keel over right in front of him, so he gave him half of his extra sandwich. However, his father saw and bellowed about how Boy was stealing food right out of the mouth of his son. Dudley tried to tell him that Boy didn't steal it, that he had given it to him, but that made his father even angrier. His father then locked his cousin in the cupboard for a week without food and water to teach him not to do freaky things to Dudley. That taught Dudley that it was much easier on his cousin if he didn't ever offer him food again.

Dudley got painfully hungry if he went even an hour without something to put in his mouth, he couldn't imagine going a day without anything at all to eat as Boy frequently did, let alone an entire week. However, Dudley did discover a way that he could feed his cousin without repercussions. When he ate, he purposely dropped food on the floor that his mum then made his cousin clean up. It didn't take Boy long to figure out the best way to clean up his messes was by eating them. It wasn't much, and it was kind of gross to think about his cousin eating food off the floor like a dog, but it did make him feel a little redeemed for all the times his father made him help beat up Boy.

He didn't like beating up his cousin, but his father expected him to, and if he didn't - his father would instead. So he did it - he chased him, he hit him, and called him names – all as a means of protecting him. The way he had it figured out, was that he didn't hit nearly as hard as he'd seen his parents hit Boy. Therefore, if he were the one beating him up, instead of them, his cousin wouldn't be hurt as much. He had felt kind of guilty about kicking him in the ribs after dinner when he thought he had heard a bone crack. He had always tried to aim where it would just bruise and not do very much harm. Tonight he had missed.

Dudley truly didn't understand why his parents kept his cousin around when they obviously didn't want him there, or why they refused to treat him like a real person. When Dudley was six and starting school he just assumed his cousin would be coming too. However, once again that wasn't the case. On the first day of school, he was so excited that he couldn't sleep. Since he was awake, that meant he was hungry, so he got up and went down to find something to eat. Boy was already up preparing eggs and sausages. When he asked his cousin if he was excited about starting school with him, he saw a look of wonder on his face he had never seen before, and has never seen since.

"Do I really get to go with you? Do I really get to learn how to read?" Boy asked him with astonishment.

"Of course you do! All kids have to go to school. You're a kid. You have to go. It's the law. If you don't go they will throw you in jail." Dudley replied with authority. "You better get ready."

Boy looked down at his rags … they were all he had and he had them on. He was ready.

Dudley smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. How stupid could he be?

"Hold on a sec!"

Boy looked shocked when Dudley took off pounding up the stairs and came back with clothes in his hands.

"Here, put this on – we'll be leaving soon."

Dudley handed him an old t-shirt, that while still several sizes too big, was in slightly better condition than the one Boy was currently wearing, and a new pair of jeans – well they also had seen a better day but they were new to Boy. Boy looked at him with such gratitude you would have thought Dudley had handed him a brand new shirt and jeans wrapped up in a box with a bow.

He watched his cousin dash to his cupboard to change and he was back in a flash with a big grin on his face. Dudley grinned back. He could finally do something nice for him. Maybe at school where his parents couldn't see, they could play together. Dudley had always wanted a little brother.

Then his father came down the stairs.

"Where's my breakfast Boy?"

"Sorry Sir, coming Sir." Boy swiftly returned to the stovetop to turn the sausages only to find they had started to burn.

"Do you expect me to eat that slop?" he asked shaking the small boy by his shoulders. "Why were you not paying attention Boy?"

"Sorry Sir, I-I-I was getting ready for … school?" Boy's grin faded and his voice trailed off at the dangerous look in Sir's eyes.

"You? You go to school? Where did you get a ridiculous idea like that?" Sir roared with laughter.

"… I-I-I thought … don't … don't all-all kids have to go to school … Sir? Isn't it a law?" Boy asked timidly just repeating what his cousin had just told him.

"No one gave you permission to think Boy! School is only for normal people, not little freaks like you. You Boy- are not normal. You Boy- are not a person. You are a slave, you're property, nothing more."

Dudley tried to shoot his cousin an apologetic look, but he couldn't catch his eye. Boy's eyes were once again fixed on the ground.

"This is for questioning me and talking back." Sir shoved him around by the shoulder and held the palms of his hands to the red-hot burner until Dudley could smell burning flesh. "You Boy have chores to do, now fix me breakfast - and this time, don't burn it. And for wasting food, there will be none for you today."

"Y-yes S-sir … S-sorry S-sir." Boy's stomach rumbled as he got more sausages out of the fridge and put them on to fry, painfully holding the spatula in his blistered hands. He glanced only once at Dudley and quickly at that, but it long enough that Dudley caught the glimpse of utter betrayal on his face.

When he got to school, Dudley asked his teacher if it was true that freakish boys didn't have to go to school. She told him no, that all boys have go to school, and then sent a note home with him to his parents complaining that he used the unacceptable term 'freak' in her classroom. Boy got punished.

One day over at his friend Pier's house, Dudley watched as his friend's mother was vacuuming up the crisps they had dropped on the carpet. He asked her why she just didn't have her slave do it. Mrs. Polkiss laughed and said that she was their only slave around their house, and then brought the amusing conversation up to Petunia at their next bridge game. Boy got punished.

Then he asked a neighbour where she kept her freak since she didn't have any stairs in her one story cottage. Mrs. Figg just looked suspicious and asked Vernon the meaning of it. Boy got punished.

Dudley never asked questions or made those types of assumptions again.

Instead, he played the game his parents played and pretended the little freak didn't exist to anyone on the outside.

But once a year, Dudley did a strange thing.

Even though his parents denied that his cousin had a real name or a birthday, Dudley knew that he did – at least he thought he did. He wasn't all that positive about the name because he had only heard them call him 'Freak', or 'It', or 'Boy', but he did know when his real birthday was, even if his cousin didn't. He had heard his parents mention it once a long time ago and he had never forgot because it was real easy to remember. It was just about a month after his, the last day of July … today.

Dudley thought everyone deserved a present on his or her birthday, even Boy. Well maybe especially Boy, since Boy didn't have anything at all to call his own. Only Dudley couldn't give him anything good or his parents would punish Boy if they found him with it. Like the time he left him a plastic toy soldier. True, it only had one arm, the other having been snapped off when Dudley had tried to make the little green unmoveable arm move, but it was better than anything his cousin had. However, when his mother saw his cousin with it, she accused him of stealing it out of Dudley's room. Dudley thought that was silly of his mum to jump to that conclusion. Since they didn't allow Boy upstairs, and that was where Dudley's room was, it meant that it was impossible that he had taken it. From the sideways look his cousin gave him, Dudley realized that Boy knew that too, and thought that he had purposely got him in trouble. His mother had locked Boy in the cupboard the rest of the day until his father came home and then his father had taken him to the playroom to teach him a lesson. Dudley never left nice things after that.

Before that incident, Dudley had once tried to follow them to the playroom but his father had yelled at him. He was always curious about what type of games they played there, especially seeing as his father didn't even like to play catch with him. Why would his father prefer to play with his cousin - someone he disliked so thoroughly? His father always came out acting as if he had had a good time, while his cousin always seemed even quieter afterwards if that was at all possible. Dudley had snuck in there once when he found the door unlocked.

It was a boring room really. No video games, no ping-pong table, not even a board game to be found. Only an old metal toolbox jammed full of some very strange objects, most of which Dudley didn't recognize, or could figure out what to do with. Besides, they didn't look very fun to him. He did recognize one object in the box. It was the belt he had seen his father use to whip his cousin. It used to hang from a peg on the back of the door inside the little cupboard so it would always be handy when Boy needed to be 'taught a lesson'. When his father built the playroom and the belt had disappeared. He thought that his father had quit beating his cousin with it, but now he knew better, he had just moved the location of the 'class room'.

It was upon this discovery that Dudley started leaving his broken presents, not because he was mean - but because he wasn't. He knew broken or worthless things were the only ones that wouldn't get Boy into trouble, and the only ones his parents would let Boy keep. That year he left him a bent coat hanger, the next year an old sock with a hole in it, and another year a paperclip, then a used tissue. This year it was a broken pencil.

Dudley didn't know if his cousin understood the real meaning behind the anonymous 'gifts', but at least he could tell himself he tried.

Sighing at the inadequacy of it all, Dudley padded into the kitchen for a snack to take back to bed with him. Standing at the kitchen sink, he could see his cousin in a crumpled pile in the centre of the yard.

'_Did Dad already kill him?' _Dudley wondered. '_If he didn't, then he will if Boy doesn't get his chores done before morning.' _

Going out the back door Dudley stopped with one bare foot raised to step off the porch. Darn! He'd forgotten to put on his slippers. His mum would have a holy cow if she found he went outside without them. He didn't want to walk all the way back upstairs to get them, so instead he picked up a handful of small pebbles from the flowerbed at the edge of the porch and began tossing them one by one at his cousin.

"P-p-p-s-s-s-t! Get up Boy! You need to get to work! P-p-p-s-s-s-t!"

After one particularly large pebble found it mark, Dudley was rewarded by a small groan from his cousin. He smiled as Boy started to stir slightly, glad that at least for now his cousin wasn't dead.

"Happy Birthday little Cuz," he whispered into the night.

His mission accomplished, Dudley took his snack and went to bed.


	14. Blame and Butterbeers

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Language and mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Wednesday midnight, July 31st 1991

**Chapter 14 – Blame and butterbeers, enough to go around**

"That old fool! I told him not to leave baby Harry with those people. I warned him. I told him those people were the worst sort of muggles imaginable." Minerva McGonagall vented in a staged whisper to the half-giant and the mediwitch sitting across the table from her at the Hog's Head Tavern.

"I dinna' know if that would'a mattered Professor, if the wee one died 'afore they ever took him in. Dinna' matter how horrible they were or they weren't." Hagrid replied glancing around the room. It was quite late and they were alone - save for the barkeep who hurried over when Hagrid raised his empty tankard his way and nodded for another round.

"What ever happened - Professor Dumbledore is still a great man," he finished after the bartender collected their galleons and went back to wiping down the bar.

"A great man who made a great big mistake," Minerva bit back.

"Aye, I'll give yer that one," the big man said sadly. "Here's to the Potters - James, Lily, and little Harry. May they all rest in peace."

"Rest in peace," the two women echoed as they all clinked glasses and sat back in companionable silence.

"What I don't understand," Poppy Pomfrey finally said slowly, "is why no one rang the doorbell."

"What's a doorbell?" Hagrid asked sending a puzzled frown her way as he reached down to feed a treat to the snowy owl in the cage sitting on the floor beside his chair.

"Never mind Hagrid – your question alone explains it all." Poppy said with a resigned shake of her head.

"Explains wha'?" the big man queried.

"It explains why two grown wizards and a grown witch, all of whom should have known better, didn't bother to notify the muggles that they were leaving a baby on their doorstep."

"Poppy, are you saying this is partially our fault?" Minerva looked shocked at the thought.

"I call them as I see them Minerva," Poppy said taking a liberal sip of her butterbeer. "And from where I sit, the Headmaster isn't the only one who wasn't thinking clearly that night – what about you two? What rational witch or wizard would leave a baby with muggles they've never met? You should have at the bare minimum introduced yourselves first and then made sure they would welcome the child. Just leaving him on a doorstep with a note and running away before they could say 'no', sounds a little chicken to me."

"I never thought of it that way. You're right Poppy - I should have done something. I was there too. When Albus makes the announcement I will take my share of the blame."

"Aye. Me too …" Hagrid agreed, "… even though it may mean Azkaban for all of us. 'Corse it might be safer in there, than out here, if You-Know-Who comes back. If you know what I mean."

All three drew quiet at that thought.

"Any idea when the Headmaster will make the announcement?"

"Not until the start of term," Minerva responded. "He is having a few members of the Order look into some discrepancies first."

"Discrepancies?"

"Yes, apparently Severus Snape made some observations that Albus is curious about so they are checking into them first."

"Do you mean there might be hope that little Harry isn't really dead? I applied to adopt him after his parents died, but the Ministry turned down my application since I was unmarried and working full time. They said I wasn't eligible as I would not be able to be at home with him during the day. I always wondered what happened to him. I was looking forward to seeing him this year at school."

"No, I am so sorry Poppy. I didn't mean to get your hopes up. Albus told me that they questioned the uncle under veritaserum so there is no doubt. Albus just wants to clarify a few facts before he tells everyone."

"It's definite then?"

"Yes. I should have known when after a week I still hadn't received a reply to the acceptance letters."

"Letters? As in more than one?"

"Yes. I kept hoping it just wasn't getting delivered, so I just kept sending out more."

"Just how many did you send Minerva?"

"Seven hundred and twenty nine … no make that seven hundred and thirty. I sent one last letter just this morning."

"Why so many?"

"For every letter I sent out that remained unopened, the next day I sent three in its place. I sent them for a week. You do the math."

"After so many, why send one more?"

"Foolish hope I suppose. I kept thinking it was just a mistake and the school owls were confused or getting lost of some such nonsense, so I sent one last letter with my personal owl Icarus."

"If none of the other were delivered, why did you think Icarus could do any better?"

"He is an extremely reliable bird. If any owl could find the child and deliver the letter, it would be Icarus. I did have to use the last remaining smidgeon of Harry Potter's magical essence from the school registry, but I thought it an acceptable risk. Nevertheless, Icarus hasn't returned, so that tells me that he couldn't find him simply because he doesn't exist to be found. I suppose I will have to go fetch him back now. Icarus is one determined bird. He won't be swayed from his assignment for any reason, and will starve to death before he gives up waiting." Minerva sighed. "I just wish …"

"Wish what Minerva?"

"I just wish I had followed my instincts. You are right, you know - I am to blame. Maybe more so than Albus is. Albus didn't have any reservations. I did. I should have followed up on them. I shouldn't have left it to Albus to keep check on him with his fancy toys. I should have done it myself. I should have never have left him there to begin with. I guess they were right and I don't have any motherly instincts. I did it too, you know."

"Did what?'

"I applied to adopt Harry as well. I used to babysit him for Lily from time to time. He was just the cutest little thing - all giggles and smiles, never a cry out of him. The Ministry turned me down because I'm an old spinster, they said I wasn't 'maternal' enough. When I had to leave him with those muggles, it tore my heart out. I went back … just once … about a year later. I couldn't get past the front gate. The Ministry put wards around the place to keep out anyone magical unless they were invited in, and his guardians weren't about to invite me in. I waited all day. I saw the Dursley's son, a fat little waddle, playing in the garden, but that was all until Mrs. Dursley came out of the house to call him inside. I tried to talk to her, but she just brushed me off. Looking back on it, I suppose her reaction may have been out of grief from losing both her sister and nephew, but I don't know … it was more as if she absolutely hated anything to do with our world. She could have told me then that Harry was dead, but she wouldn't even give me the time of day. However, now I know why I didn't see him playing outside with his cousin. The one thing that never crossed my mind was that he was dead. I just assumed he was inside the house for some reason. After that, I gave up. I couldn't go back again. I wanted him so much, and it would have hurt too much to only see him from afar and not be able to go up to him and hug him because of those wards."

"Sounds pretty maternal to me Professor," Hagrid said his speech slurring a little as he had changed from butterbeer to firewhiskey.

"A mother would have gone back to check …"

"You tried," Poppy said patting her hand.

"A mother would have kept going back until she was sure he was well and happy."

"Well in tha' case, so would have a da. I applied too … you know, to adopt the wee one."

"You did Hagrid? I didn't know that."

"Ya … I was turned down because I spent a year in Azkaban back in the days … yer remember … my 'unfortunate incarceration' as they called it … 'twarn't my fault but they still held it against me … said I was 'dangerous' - didn't know my own strength. Guess they afeared I might squash the tot. 'Wouldn't be safe' in my care they said. At least yer tried to check on him. I never went back at all … 'couldna' bring myself to go near him after that. Afeared they might be right," Hagrid finished with a sniff.

"There, there Hagrid," Poppy soothed the half-giant. "Those bureaucrats just don't know you. You wouldn't hurt a fly, at least not intentionally. Cross-breed it with an Acromantula maybe, but never hurt it."

"Thank yer Poppy. But it doesn't change anything."

Hagrid hefted the cage at his feet to the tabletop and opened the door for the snowy owl.

"I guess yer won't be needed after all girl." Hagrid petted the owl's soft feathers as he talked to her. "I got yer for the boy-who-lived, for little Harry Potter, he was going to start Hogwarts this year but he's not coming now. I thought yer would make up for all those birfdays I missed with him. I volunteered to take him to Diagon Alley, school supply shopping today, and was going to give yer to him over ice cream at Florean Fortescue's. It just dinna seem right yer belonging to anyone else now. Best be off with you. Go - you're free."

The snowy owl's large amber eyes looked puzzled as she searched the giant man's face.

"Go on now – fly," Hagrid said lifting the bird up and tossing her in the air.

'_Hoooottt' _

The snowy owl gave one last stubborn look behind her as she flew determinedly out the open window beside the door.

"There, that's done," Hagrid said looking over at the still sombre Minerva. Yer know Professor, I could have gone to check on the lad, and I 'dinna either. I'm as much at fault as anybody, and when the Headmaster makes the announcement, I'll take my share of the blame."

"Bah! Shoulda'…woulda'…coulda'… you Hogwarts folk are all the same," the barkeep snorted.

The three at the table looked up startled to remember that they weren't quite alone. Aberforth the barkeep came over to them.

"Didn't mean to be listening, but that brother of mine always does seem to get people to stand up and take the blame for him. Seems to me that Albus is the only one to blame here and for the very reason Madame Pomfrey first mentioned. While you two have lived your whole lives in the wizarding world, my brother certainly had had his share of experiencing how muggles live."

"What do you mean Aberforth?"

"I mean Albus _knows_ damn well what a doorbell is."


	15. Under branches lit up by the moon

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Language and mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Wednesday midnight July 31st, 1991 through Thursday wee early morning hours, August 1st 1991

**Chapter 15 – Under branches lit up by the moon**

The night was clear and warm, the moon bathing the garden in a soft glow while the stars did their best to add their twinkles to every reflective surface available. The day, the last one of July, had been very hot, and the earth that had earlier absorbed all the sun's rays, as it baked the flowerbeds to a crisp, was now slowing releasing its heat from the ground. It felt like a warm quilt to the boy lying in the middle of the lawn, at least what he imagined a quilt would feel like if he had ever had the chance to snuggle under one.

Boy loved the garden.

However, the only times he was allowed in it was at night when the neighbours had all gone to bed and could not see him, and then it was to work in it, not to play. Nevertheless, any time away from the stifling heat and suffocating closeness of the tiny dark cupboard, in a place where no one beat him, was time he cherished. One of the main reasons he liked it so much, was that for the most part, The Family left him alone while he was working outside.

Cousin stayed away from any activity that looked as if it might make him sweat, well … any activity other than chasing and beating up Boy - that he didn't seem to mind so much. When it came to Sir and Ma'am, they never lifted a finger to help. Oh, they might occasionally poke a head out, sweep the area with a torch until they caught Boy in the beam so they could glare at him if they thought he wasn't working hard enough, but that was about it.

The Family seemed to think that working in the garden was a detestable chore. Don't get me wrong they were all quite proud of their garden and demanded it be the best in the neighbourhood, but it was entirely for show - they wanted absolutely no part in maintaining it. Boy on the other hand always looked forward to it. Even when they put him in the garden when it was storming, he loved it. The energy of the lightning and thunder crashing around him made him feel alive, as if anything were possible. When it was windy, he could pretend that the wind might lift him up at any minute and he would go flying free among the clouds, a dream that seemed so familiar that he could almost imagine the sensation. He even liked it when it was pouring rain because that was the only time he felt clean. Wet yes, but clean. He would let the rain run all over his skin and scrub himself with the big rough slightly fuzzy leaves of Ma'am's prize winning hydrangeas.

The only time he really didn't enjoy being outside was in the dead of winter, when the bitter cold cut through him like Sir's silver knife. It wouldn't be so bad if he at least had a coat like Cousin did, but Ma'am said he didn't deserve one and sold any of Cousin's old ones for pocket money. She would then tell Boy that he should feel grateful that the old shirt they let him wear had long sleeves. Boy acknowledged that he should be grateful but truth be told, he wasn't, well not very anyway. It was hard to feel all that appreciative for a threadbare shirt that was more hole than shirt. But as it was the only shirt he had, he _was_ at least grateful that he had it, no matter what state it was in, but he would have been more grateful if he had also had a coat, that was one cost he would have gladly have had added to his debt if it had been allowed.

Fortunately, the only work he had to do outside in winter was shovelling snow, to keep the drive and car free of ice. That strenuous activity normally kept his fingers and toes from completely freezing. Sometimes he would have to shovel it continually throughout the night to keep it perfectly clear for Sir to be perfectly happy. Boy always wondered if the neighbours ever thought it peculiar when they would wake up on a snowy winter morning to find a foot of snow on their own driveways but that Sir's drive was always completely clear with not a flake to be found. The Family had told him there was no such thing as magic, but what could look more magical than that? Boy laughed at the thought about how 'abnormal' that really made The Family appear to the neighbours, when they went out of their way to act as 'normal' as possible at all times.

Being cold was one thing Boy definitely didn't like about being outside. Of course, in winter it was also cold in his cupboard, as heat in the winter and cool air in the summer had both been deemed as an extravagant expense of which he was not worthy of having credit extended. Nevertheless, inside the cupboard, or out in the garden, being cold always gave him bad dreams - flashes of cold green light, pain, screaming, and feelings of sheer terror followed by a sense of overwhelming loss. He didn't know what the dreams meant other that on cold nights it guaranteed a nightmare followed closely by a beating for waking Sir up when he screamed himself awake.

However, on warm nights like this one in mid-summer, he only dreamt happy dreams of being in the Hundred Acre Wood with his friends. While awake and working in the garden he could pretend that it was just a part of the wood and that at any moment Pooh would poke his friendly face through a hole in the fence looking for a hunny pot, or Tigger would bounce in on his springy tail chasing a bee. He also liked to pretend that he had real friends, one who might come to visit at any minute just as Cousin's came to visit him. However, that was more in the realm of fantasy than even his woodland friends were. He knew the only 'real' friends he would ever have would only be pretend.

The trickiest part about working in the garden was adhering to Sir's strict 'Don't Make Noise' rule, and the equally difficult 'Don't Be Seen' rule. When The Family first started to stake him out in the garden he earned beatings almost every night for making too much noise, until he learned how to move and work without a sound. Boy thought that as loud as Sir snored that he wouldn't have heard the small rustles and slight clinking sounds the chain made as he moved around the beds. However, he would be wrong. It seemed as if any sound Boy made was amplified directly into Sir's ear. The noise would bring him out in a rage to drag Boy back inside for a sound beating, and to then be thrown into the cupboard without food and water until he could learn to 'behave like a normal person'.

That always made Boy laugh to himself. Why did Sir keep wanting him to behave like a normal person when Sir kept telling him that he was property and not a person? To behave as if he was a person when he wasn't? Wouldn't that be lying? Sir had a rule against that too.

To obey the 'Don't be seen' rule, Boy had identified numerous hiding places around the front and back garden that were within easy reach of the length of chain. In those spots, he could hide safely from view in a blink of an eye from any spot in the garden. He had perfected this art as a way of avoiding the painful ramifications of breaking the rule. The Family told him that particular rule was there for his protection. Dumbledore had told them that if anyone outside of the family were to see him, he would have to send him to prison. Cousin had regaled him with horrifying stories about what happened to freaks in prison. It scared Boy. Besides which, he was so ugly and grotesque, Ma'am told him that normal people would find him hideous and shun him, rather than be subjected to looking at him.

Ma'am had also told him that she had eyes and ears everywhere, and would always catch him if he even thought about breaking the rules. Boy could imagine Ma'am's hard glinty eyes peering out of the hollow high in the big tree in the back garden and a sharp cupped ear extending from the arbour with the climbing rose in the front. Ma'am _always_ did seem to know what he was thinking, he mused, even when he wasn't thinking anything at all.

Then there was Sir, Boy didn't want to think about Sir. From experience knew that breaking _any_ of Sir's rules was a very _very_ bad thing to do. Even when he wasn't the one to do it, he was still the one punished. He remembered when cousin had started school. Cousin must have said something about him at school, or to his friends, because he was beaten three days in a row just because someone _'might'_ be suspecting _'something'_. So in default, Boy was accused of breaking another of Sir's rules, the 'No one must know he exists' rule. Boy didn't really see how it was always his fault what Cousin said or did, but Sir said it was simply because Boy was still breathing and that was a good enough reason to punish him. If he was beaten this much for someone possibly guessing he might exist, imagine the beating if anyone actually saw him and knew for sure. The very thought terrified Boy into complete compliance.

It never occurred to Boy that if anyone did find out, that someone might protest on his behalf as to how he was being treated. To him it was … normal. It was his life. He didn't know it should, or even that it could, be any different. It was how filthy little worthless murdering freak slaves were supposed to be treated wasn't it? They were supposed to be chained up, degraded, starved, beaten, whipped, locked in tiny cupboards under the stairs, and made to work until they dropped. Why would anyone object when that was how it is supposed to be? They wouldn't stop the beatings if they knew, they would approve and help Sir give him more, and then there would just be that many more people hurting him that more often. After all, no one cares what happens to a slave.

It never occurred to Boy that anyone would ever help him or treat him kindly. He always imagined that he would be treated in the same horrific manner by anyone who knew who, and what, he was. He was ashamed of who he was, and humiliated by what he was. The Family had made sure that he knew that since he was a slave he owned nothing, and they owned everything. They allowed him precious little to use and nothing at all to call his own. That included his pride, confidence and sense of self worth. They owned him body and soul they said, so The Family had taken ownership of those fragile qualities too, emotionally shredding them into tiny pieces, and then stomping the pieces into the ground, much akin to pouring salt into a wound, for the lingering pain it caused.

It never occurred to Boy that anyone ever did, or ever would, love him. The Family had drilled it into him that he didn't deserve love, so he no longer expected or even hoped for it. Only the teeniest tiniest part of his heart even still dared to long for it. Not even his parent's had wanted him, he was a mistake and he had murdered them in revenge. Since then he had been nothing but an inconvenience and a burden to The Family who only tolerated him out of obligation. No one else would ever want anything to do with him. Why should they? He wasn't their property so they had no responsibility toward him. He wasn't even human they told him, he was a slave, an animal. He was merely chattel of no intrinsic value. He was hideous and repulsive, a disgrace, a thing to be used until there was nothing left and then cast aside. He ate garbage and dressed in rags … he _was_ trash. No one could ever love trash.

It never occurred to Boy that he deserved to be treated any better, because he knew he didn't. It was the one thing he never shared with his friends in the Hundred Acre Wood. It would hurt too much if even his pretend friends were to leave him if they found out. And they would leave. He knew it. No one would want to be friends with a freak, even ones he made up.

So many opportunities lost … if Boy had only realized that what was going on within the walls of Number 4 Privet Drive wasn't normal. However, breaking any of Sir's rules was not an option he ever considered as being in his best interest. Moreover, without doing so, he would never be exposed to the truth. The only people he had faith in, were his friends from the Hundred Acre Wood, and then only because they didn't know the truth about him. He gave his trust to no one, not even them. If he couldn't trust even his pretend friends, he certainly had no reason to believe that a total stranger would ever help him. He had no one to turn to, no one to depend on, only himself, and following all of The Family's rules to the letter was the only way he knew of to survive.

Boy had had a few close calls over the years even though he was so careful and so quiet when outside. Several times, he had nearly been spotted by early risers jogging down the pavement, or surprised by neighbours coming home extremely late after a party. Those that caught a fleeting glimpse in the corner of their eye of something moving, explained it away as their imagination, or a shadow, a stray cat, or too much to drink. Boy had to be especially wary of dodging one particular neighbour who Ma'am said came from a far-away place called Magnolia Court. This neighbour took an unusually keen interest in The Family's doings. However, it helped that the clothes The Family begrudgingly allowed him to wear were always solid black - black trainers, black jeans, and black shirt. All black just like the night so he would blend as if he wasn't really there and didn't exist, just as they wanted.

The only real trouble he had anymore was completing the sheer volume of work they expected him to do in a few hours. On the hot summer days, the weeds grew … well like weeds do, and if he missed even one, it was deemed he had not completed the chore properly. The moonlight drained the plants of colour, robbing the vivid red roses of their hues until they looked black, bleaching the sunny yellow pigment out of the daisies and snapdragons turning them white, muting all other colours until everything looked to be just different shades of grey. Therefore, he had to work very slowly to differentiate the flowers from the weeds in the dim light, to ensure that he didn't damage the roots of any of Ma'am's prize winning plants. Ma'am would know the instant he did for she expected to win the neighbourhood flower and garden show again this year, and therefore inspected his work with an eagle eye. Boy knew there were likely to be severe repercussions if she did not. Ma'am insisted he tend the garden until it was the showpiece of the neighbourhood, nature in a girdle. It was a reflection of Ma'am herself, rigidly pruned into form, with nary a leaf out of place, or a stem broken.

Boy was thankful that his friend Rabbit had taught him how to distinguish weeds from flowers by their texture, taste, and smell, since he couldn't rely on his eyesight at night. Especially on those nights when there was no moon and he was left blind to do it all by feel. Rabbit had also shown him which plants were edible and which could be used to heal. Boy thought that Rabbit was just about the smartest person in the world. True, his world was so extremely small it had a limited pool of comparison, but Rabbit was still by far the smartest one in it, even smarter than Owl, who claimed that honour to anyone who would listen. Right now Boy was glad of all he had learned from Rabbit and Owl, as he urgently needed both food and healing and had only himself to provide it.

Slowly Boy became more aware of what sounded like persistent fat rain drops falling all around him. I struck him as odd that it was raining and yet he wasn't getting wet. When one of the 'drops' found its mark and beamed him on the back of the head he realized it wasn't rain, it was rocks.

'_It's raining rocks?'_ he thought with confusion until he heard an urgent sounding whisper.

"P-p-p-s-s-s-t! Get up Boy! You need to get to work. P-p-p-s-s-s-t!"

It was Cousin's voice. Couldn't he just let him sleep for once? Boy hurt so badly and sleep was his only means of escaping it, but he knew cousin was right. If he didn't get busy, he would hurt even more come morning when he faced Sir's wrath again. Cousin then said something else, but it was so quiet Boy couldn't quite make it out. Then he heard the back door close and he was alone again. He hoped it wasn't anything important.

Boy gingerly got to his feet and making his way to the end of the tether, he headed slowly toward the back corner of the garden to the compost pile. Kneeling down he felt carefully behind a broken board at the base of the fence for the flat rosettes with the spiky stalks, which he knew sometimes grew there. Relief flooded through him as he found the brittle flower stalk, and started gently prizing the arnica roots out of the hard ground. Rabbit had told him it was much better to finely chop the root and heat it to draw the healing properties out into a tincture to make a lotion. However, it couldn't be helped. He didn't have the tools to do that, so instead he placed the root on a flat rock topped it with a handful of chamomile which he found nearby, and a sprig of yarrow found growing on the far side of the compost pile. Boy then carefully crushed the roots, flowers, and the feathery leaves together until they made a grainy paste. Gently dabbing the mixture to all the cuts and bruises he could reach he could feel the herb poultice start to ease the wounds, the arnica helping to minimize the bruising and swelling, the yarrow to stop the bleeding, and the chamomile to fight inflammation.

There were many plants that Rabbit had told him of that helped with pain, but the only one that he had ever found growing in his little world was aconite with its fleshy root and tiny flowers. Rabbit had warned him that it was also extremely poisonous so he only nibbled on a few of the plant's tiny round leaves. He wished he dared more, or that he had access to the more powerful white poppies of which Rabbit had told him. However, Sir had given him a very severe beating when he had once left one of them growing, shouting at Boy something about him trying to get Sir arrested for growing pot. Boy didn't know what he meant by that, how could he possibly grow pots and pans in a garden? Pots were metal and hard, nothing at all like the cheerful plant that Sir had crushed without mercy under the heel of his steel-toed shoe.

Sir didn't make too much sense at times.

Boy then managed to tear off a scrap of bark from the tall Ash tree, which Owl (an expert on trees of all types being a bird) had told him was good for reducing fever. One of which, he was sure he had, as his eyes were dry and his forehead felt uncomfortably warm. As he chewed thoughtfully on the bitter bark, he wished that he dared to bring some of the herbs inside and prepare them properly over heat as Rabbit had taught him, so that they would work better. Only he wasn't allowed to use the stove for anything except preparing food for The Family, besides his chain didn't allow him to reach as far as the shelter of the back porch let alone the kitchen.

Once again, his simple makeshift herbal treatments would have to do for The Family had never offered him any help when he was hurt or ill, and he had no one else to ask. If he complained at all, they just gave him more reasons to hurt and then expected him to endure the pain silently and to heal himself. His friends, Rabbit and Owl, had helped him learn how to do just that by teaching him how to survive with what he could glean in the garden.

Boy picked up the weeder in his good hand and started gently ridding the rose beds of the offending upstarts, eating the leaves of any stray dandelions he came across in his labours, but those only reminded him of his thirst. He eyed the hosepipe but knew that if he turned on the water it would wake Sir, and Sir had not given him permission to use the hose. Sighing he continued to weed as he wished that the garden had a pond, or even a birdbath in it so that he could get a drink of water. He was so thirsty his throat felt like it would crack open. Boy's only hope was that The Family was late bringing him in. If they were, maybe he could lick dew off the lawn…

'_Hoooottt'_

Boy startled at the sound. Noise! He had to find the source quickly and make it stop! It would wake Sir, and then Sir would blame him!

'_Hoooottt'_

Boy finally pinpointed the odd sound coming from high in the Ash tree in the back garden. He blinked amazed at the sight of two very large owls perched on a branch. Two pair of very round very yellow eyes blinked back at him.

"Owl?" Boy whispered, "Owl is that you?"

'_Hoooottt' _a stately grey owl, and a large snowy white one, gently floated down from the branch to land with elegance on the lawn on either side of the boy.

Expectantly the grey owl extended a leg, with a letter attached by a string, to the young boy. The majestic bird knew his mistress had sent countless others before him, with copies of the same letter. He also knew that they had all failed miserably in their attempt to find the intended recipient. He was her last attempt, her last hope to deliver it, and he was not a bird known to disappoint.

Icarus had been waiting high in the tree since early that morning. It gave him a clear view of square nest that was Number 4 Privet Drive and the garden area surrounding it. Icarus was determined to wait until he delivered the letter entrusted to him, directly into the hands of the rightful owner, even if it took days or weeks. He scoffed at the thought of the other birds in the Hogwarts Owlery casually dropping their letters off through the mail chute or down the chimney. True, a few of them were more creative and stuffed them into eggs. Still … they were all amateurs. The school birds were trustworthy enough with the occasional normal mundane delivery, however if you had a difficult job that needed to be done right, you had to go to a professional.

He had waited all day without a sign of the wizard he had come to find. He had seen a large fat human leave the nest early in the morning, and then a small fat human come out and join a flock of other small humans and head noisily up the street. Icarus thought for an instant that this might be the wizard he had come to find, he sensed something, but no. He wasn't quite a match to the essence in the letter he carried, and almost wasn't good enough for the exacting bird. After that there was no activity for hours except the occasional high pitched screech from the nest until the small fat human came back, followed shortly afterwards by the large fat human returning once again. Then a very interesting development happened, he saw two wizards arrive at the nest polyjuiced to look like muggles.

'_Hoooottt!' They must be here to visit the same wizard to whom I am here to deliver the letter. 'Hoooottt!' Their disguises may fool humans but they would never fool an owl. We,_ he thought smugly, _are far too intelligent for that. _

Several hours later Icarus saw the two wizards, looking themselves, leave via the front door, then several hours after that he saw the large fat human dragging a very small human, he had not seen before, out the back door and into the garden and leave him there. Icarus cocked his feathered head and studied the young human intently.

A tiny bit of magical core from each potential magical student is imbedded into the Hogwart's student registry by their parents at the time of their birth, to declare their intent to attend the school. The registry then tracks their whereabouts until they turn eleven. At that time, their bit of magic is transferred into their acceptance letter where it magically addresses the envelope to the child's bedroom, once it's picked up by an owl for delivery. The bit of magic to be reunited back to the wizard or witch's core when they break the seal and read the letter. This practice ensured the delivery of this very special and very important letter only to the correct wizard or witch, even by the most inexperienced owl. The remaining essence for the recipient of the letter he carried, which was only the most infinitesimal bit after all the botched deliveries, matched to the magical core of the young wizard who was now lying curled on the grass in a ball. However, the magical signature emanating from the young wizard did not.

The wizard's magical core consisted of the wizard's true inner-self, his essence, his fundamental nature, a never changing constant from birth to death. While the wizard's magical signature was the reflection the wizard projected of his outer-self, ever changing and growing with his experiences, it was whom he thought himself to be. The closer in harmony these two magical auras were, the more powerful the witch or wizard and in turn, the more powerful the wizard's magic, the more discordant, the weaker the magic.

_Did the young wizard truly not know who he was?_ Icarus wondered. He had only seen this type of baffling imbalance once before in a case of extreme amnesia. In that instance the amnesia victim had been subjected to prolonged exposure from numerous unforgivable curses, this wizard was far too young to have had that occur. Icarus was almost certain he had found the right wizard but something was confusing the magical auras to the point where they were virtually cancelling each other out making the magic practically nonexistent. He wanted to be absolutely certain that this was the right wizard, the consummate professional that he was, so he decided to just watch and wait.

'_Hoooottt?' _Icarus acknowledged the arrival on his branch of a large snowy white owl. _'What … Hoooottt … are you doing here?'_

'_Hoooottt … the giant man told me to go. He had promised I was to be the familiar to a new owlet when he came to Hogwarts … Hoooottt … the boy-who-lived, but then the giant man said my owlet wasn't coming after all so I wasn't needed … Hoooottt … the house owls told me that you left to deliver his letter to him, so I came to see for myself … Hoooottt … is that the boy-who-lived?' _The snowy owl hopefully waved a wing at the young wizard below in the garden '_… Hoooottt … is that my owlet?'_

'_Hoooottt … I'm not sure yet …' _Icarus replied. _'Hoooottt … we must watch a while longer.'_

Icarus could tell even through the confused magic that this was a wizard with the potential of great power. They watched with interest while the young wizard tended to his own wounds and then even more carefully to tend to the garden. Surely, anyone so loving towards nature must be the right wizard, and if not, those wizards back at the castle were fools not to invite him to Hogwarts anyway. Suddenly Icarus found himself unexpectedly locked in a staring match with the young wizard far below. He looked deep into the soul of the hopeful eyes that were now peering up at him, made his decision, and glided down from the branch. Lighting gracefully beside the young wizard, he offered him the letter.

As the young wizard warily reached out and untied the string, Icarus preened his feathers, satisfied at a job well done. Preparing to take wing aloft for his return trip, he paused as he felt a small calloused hand gently petting his head and back. No one other than his mistress had ever dared to touch his regal feathers and he was about to nip the young wizard for his audacity, but then stopped and peered hard at him.

There was something wrong with this young owlet. Most wizards he delivered Hogwarts letters to, for the Deputy Headmistress, were overjoyed. They would jump up and down, fairly ripping the letter off his leg before he even had a chance to land. This young wizard had barely touched his, leaving it discarded on the lawn deciding in favour of petting his silky feathers. Icarus decided to acquiesce for a little while as it did feel rather nice and soothing, and he did have a quite a long journey ahead.

"Neither of you are really Owl are you?" the owlet whispered in a slightly disappointed tone.

'_Hoooottt … Not really an owl? Hoooottt?' _

'_Hoooottt … Is this owlet blind? Hoooottt?'_

'_Hoooottt … Of course we're owls.'_

'_Hoooottt … and damn fine ones indeed!' _

The two owls ruffled their feathers in a perturbed way.

"Sssusshhh … quiet … please," the young wizard pleaded, putting finger to his lips. "I-I'm sorry … I didn't mean to offend you. You are both quite nice owls. Just not … just not … _my Owl_."

'_Hoooottt … Well that is downright perplexing … owl but not my Owl? What does he mean? I don't see any other owl except for us …'_

'_Hoooottt … not my owl? My owlet must be ill, not to recognize his own familiar. Of course I am his owl.' _

'_Hoooottt … maybe he is dim-witted, that is probably why he is out here in the middle of the night, instead of inside the nest where stupid human children should be at this hour.'_

'_Hoooottt … don't you call my owlet dim-witted and stupid you pompous bird!' _she nipped him sharply.

"I wish you could talk to me like Owl does. Owl even knows how to read. If you were Owl, maybe you could tell me what this letter says. The paper looks and feels like that other paper - the one Sir made me write those names on. I wonder if it is magic too."

Icarus watched as the owlet shuddered at the memory, and then carefully folded and tucked the unopened envelope with the spidery green writing into the pocket of his grimy jeans.

"I could use a friend or two right now," the owlet started to say hesitantly and then finished sadly, "but you probably don't want to be friends with a filthy freak like me anyway. It's okay if you don't. I'll understand. Nobody would want to be friends with a worthless piece of trash."

The owls hearing the longing in the young owlet's voice, wondered again, why he was outside alone, and not in the nest protected by his parents. Owls would never leave their owlets alone until they were ready to defend themselves from predators, and this one clearly could not defend himself. They could see that he was already badly hurt and in the need of help.

'_Hoooottt … how do I get myself involved in these things?'_ Icarus thought crossly.

'_Hoooottt … my owlet needs help, we must do something! … Hoooottt'_

'_Hoooottt … fine, first the owlet needs a meal … Hoooottt … he looks about ready to moult. I will find him food … Hoooottt … if you will find him water. He … Hoooottt … obviously cannot leave to hunt for it himself the way the large fat human has him tethered.'_

Spreading his massive wings, Icarus took off flying low over the neighbourhood until he spotted a small mouse. Diving swiftly he caught it in his beak, mercifully crushing it's spine in one swift movement. Flying quickly back to the garden he dropped the meal in front of the young owlet who was currently huddled with his arms wrapped around his knees silently rocking back and forth, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"You … you came back!" came the disbelieving whisper as he swiped at the tears with the back of his hand. "When you flew away … I-I didn't think that you wanted to be fr-friends."

Icarus picked up the dead mouse with his beak, dropped it even closer to the owlet, and then ripped it open with his sharp talons tearing off a bit of flesh with his beak to show him what to do.

"Er … thanks."

Desperate as he was for food, Boy preferred it cooked. However, as Ma'am often told him, beggars can't be choosers. Moreover, they made him beg for everything he got so he guessed he was a beggar and didn't have a choice. Besides, the owl certainly seemed determined to make him obey. Timidly he took what the owl offered him and after the first bite hit his empty stomach, without further hesitation he ate what was offered. Icarus continued to rip off small bits dropping them in the owlet's hand until he had eaten the entire mouse, Boy delicately nibbling the last of the meat from the tiny bones.

In the meantime, the snowy owl had made trip after trip to a pond in a nearby park carefully emptying her beak of water droplets until she had filled the hollow of a small upturned rock to the brim. The owlet lifted it to his lips like a cup and gratefully drank the much needed water.

"Thanks, I feel loads better now." He still had a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he would have gratefully drunk more of the murky water, but the nausea caused from no food or water for several days had abated.

"Thank you again … I need to call you something." Addressing the grey owl he asked, "How about Mercury? I heard a commercial on Cousin's telly about someone named Mercury who was a winged messenger of the gods, and flew really fast and delivered flowers to pretty ladies. Ha-ha, I'm not pretty, and that wasn't a flow, but you are silver like the mercury in the thermometer. The description kind of fits … if-if you like it, that is."

'_Hoooottt' _the grey owl trilled in assent. He liked it. He liked it very much, it was much better than the name his mistress gave him - 'Icarus'. Icarus was the name of a stupid human pretending to be a stupid bird that stupidly flew too close to the stupid sun and died a stupid death. As if he would ever do that! He was _not_ a stupid bird … he was regal, majestic, magnificent, and he had always thought that 'Icarus' was a stupid name not befitting him at all. He detested all things stupid. However, Mercury … Merrrrcurrrryyyyy … A Messenger of the Gods … it fairly dripped with regalness. A grand name and very fitting indeed for a royal bird like he.

"And for you pretty girl … let's see … how about Hedwig? In Cousin's Sunday school lessons, Dudley was taught about a Saint Hedwig who was a very beautiful and wise duchess in a snow-covered castle. She lived a long time ago, was very kind, and did great deeds. Cousin said she was my saint because she was the patron saint who cared for dying children … I guess that fits too … you are beautiful and white like snow and you look like you should live in a fairly tale castle … and I think … I think I am dying … or will be soon … maybe it doesn't fit though … after all I'm not a child … I'm not a person at all … I'm just Boy … a freak … an it … a-a whore …. Nobody cares if I die … probably … not even you." Boy finished in a small unsteady voice. It was the most he had ever said in his life.

Hedwig did _not_ like the matter of fact way her owlet said that. They were definitely going to have to work on his lack of self-esteem. Proper owls were nothing if not proud, confident, and full of self worth. She had much to teach her owlet.

'_Hoooottt' _she agreed to the name, hopping up to his shoulder and nuzzling him reassuringly with her head. Then she tweaked his ear playfully with her beak for good measure. She liked this new owlet of hers. He was quiet and gentle, kind and loving. She hadn't known him for long but was already feeling like an overprotective mother. He was going to die only over her dead feathered body first.

The newly rechristened Mercury and Hedwig stayed at the owlet's side as he returned to his work in the garden. For every weed he pulled up, Mercury used his talons to pulled one up too. Then Hedwig would clutch both weeds in her beak and hop across the lawn to drop them onto the ever-growing pile of refuse in the corner of the garden behind the shed. The diligent team worked tirelessly the rest of the night, the young owlet never once stopping to take a rest from the backbreaking work, so neither did the birds.

Halfway around the back garden flowerbeds, Boy finally stopped. Stabbing the weeding tool deep into the grass he sat back gingerly on his heels, and stared up into the inky sky where the stars were putting on a magnificent last minute display. He wondered idly if the stars looked the same from the Hundred Acre Wood, then he noticed the moon setting as the dawn started to creep into the eastern sky. The Family never let him be outside in the sunlight so one of them would soon be coming to get him. Boy looked at the long length of bed yet to be weeded and sighed. He was nowhere near to being done.

He had tried so hard to complete all his chores in time, but as injured and tired as he was, he just couldn't move very fast. In reality, it would have taken three healthy grown men, at least ten hours each in the bright light of day, to complete all the garden tasks that Sir had expected Boy to do in just a few short hours in the dark. However, despite as much as The Family enjoyed going on their little Holidays, reality was one of the few places they seldom visited. That meant Boy would be beaten again this morning and go without food for another day, but the worst part was that Sir promised another 'lesson'.

Boy couldn't go through that again. He just couldn't. He didn't want to think about it at all, but it was all about which he could think. Boy shifted uncomfortably. Sir was right was right about that too - the cruel toy did remind him of his lesson constantly, every time he moved, and even when he didn't. The only prayer he had of stopping it from happening again for real was to have completed his chores, but the scant few minutes he had left now wouldn't make a difference. There really wasn't any point in trying any further. He was totally exhausted.

Boy collapsed once more to the ground, defeated, to await his fate.

Hedwig hopped over next to her owlet concerned. She could tell that his magical core was weakening to a dangerously low level. With a very motherly gesture the snowy owl stretched her wings out as wide as she could, gently covering her owlet with a feathery blanket, Mercury in an equally fatherly fashion followed suit from the other side.

"We tried … thank you both for your help," the young owlet sighed in a very small voice audible only to the owls. "If I am going to die today I hope it is in the garden, it's so beautiful. Will you stay with me? Just … just a little while longer?"

The owls softly hooted their assent.

As much as Boy loved the garden, the garden in turned loved the boy.

All gardens have a spirit of their own that is in tune with Mother Nature, the personification of the essential magic that holds the fabric of the universe tenuously together. The Family's garden was no exception, she had watched her tenderer affectionately over the years as he worked diligently to carefully weed, clip, and trim her grass and leaves. She didn't like the other humans that lived in the offending hard square box that had been rudely plopped down in the middle of her. However, her tenderer was different from those other humans. She could tell. He was careful and loving, and never failed to appreciate her beauty, and as gardens go this one was exceedingly vain.

She knew her tenderer wasn't treated very well by the large humans and treated only slightly better by the other small human. The garden wished with all her soul that there was something she could do to repay him for his care but there was very little a garden can do for a human child in desperate need of a human parent. She couldn't wrap him in her branches and hug him when he was hurting, she couldn't cuddle him in her twigs when he needed comfort, or tuck him into a bed of her soft grass when he needed to rest.

No there was little the garden could do but sing him to sleep with the wind through her leaves, provide sustenance for him with her bounty, and try to send her essence into him whenever his own magical reserves were failing. The latter she did now, the rising light of dawn making the faint blue glow surrounding the boy barely visible. That was all she could do. She hoped it was enough.

Watching him sleeping now, cradled in the wings of his surrogate parents, the garden wept.


	16. The Letter

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Thursday, dawnish, August 1st, 1991

**Chapter 16 – The Letter**

Christopher Robin sat alone on the log overlooking the dark abyss, turning an envelope over and over in his hands. Holding it up to the bright sunlight, he squinted at it first with his left eye and then with his right. Then he turned it this way and that, upside down and right side up, edgewise, longwise, shortwise. It didn't matter which way he turned it, he still couldn't read it.

"Hi Christopher Robin! What are you doing?" Winnie the Pooh flumped down next to him a happy expression in his little button eyes.

"I am reading a letter. Or … at least I am trying too." Christopher Robin replied to his chubby little friend, holding the envelope up to the sunlight once again and squinting at it with both eyes this time with the tip of his tongue stuck out one corner of his mouth for luck.

"Seems a funny way to read a letter. Can I help?"

"Of course you can you silly old bear," Christopher Robin agreed with an indulgent smile.

"How?"

"Er … I'm not sure. I've never gotten a letter before so I am not sure what to do with it."

"I've gotten loads of letters," the little bear said importantly. Putting paw to temple, he looked thoughtful and added, "… well … maybe two."

"That is two more than I," Christopher laughed merrily at his cubby friend. "Since you have experience you can tell me what I do."

"First you have to clear your throat loudly and say: My, my, looky here. I have a letter. I think I will open you."

"I do?"

"Yes indeed, it is quite important. Can't sneak up on it you know. It might disappear if you surprise it, just like a heffalump."

"Harrumph … okay … my, my, looky here. I have a letter. I think I will open you." Christopher Robin very told the envelope in a very quiet voice.

"Oh no! That won't do at all Christopher Robin. You must say it very firmly and _very_ loudly."

"I didn't want to scare it."

"Quiet can be scary too, if you don't know what is in it. I find it much better to be as loud and noisy as I can everywhere I go so the scary things have time to get out of the way."

"Okay Pooh, here goes … HARRUMPH! MY, MY, LOOKY HERE. I HAVE A LETTER. I THINK I WILL OPEN YOU." Christopher Robin shouted as loud as he could at the envelope.

"What the dynamite is going on up here ssssonny?" Gopher popped his head up from a nearby hole and glared at the pair. "Can't you let a body ssssleep?"

"Christopher Robin got a letter and I am helping him read it," Pooh informed him proudly.

"Reading issssn't normally sssso noisssy sssonny. Sssso, what's it ssssay?" Gopher asked with curiosity.

"We don't know yet Gopher. We are still trying to open it."

"Sssso whatssss sssso hard about it? Let me ssssee what you're a doin."

Christopher Robin demonstrated Pooh's technique for Gopher, by shouting a third time at the top of his lungs.

"**HARRUMPH! MY, MY, LOOKY HERE. I HAVE A LETTER. I THINK I WILL OPEN YOU."**

"Well I sssee the problem sssonny. Thatsss not how you open a letter."

"Then how do you do it Gopher?"

"Dynamite. It'sss the only way. Much more effissscient."

"Dynamite?"

"Yesss, I would sssay about five or sssix sssticksss ssshould do it," Gopher estimated eyeing the envelope speculatively.

"Er … I think maybe we need to think it over."

"Okay sssonny but don't take all day. Aaaaaahhh!" Gopher fell back into the hole then popped a paw out holding up business card. "Heresss my card. Think it over. Give me a call. Bussssy - got a ssschedule to keep. Lotsss to do at the offissce. Don't losse the card, not in the book you know. Casssh only."

"He's gone," Christopher Robin said looking down the hole into which Gopher had disappeared.

"Yes, and he's not in the book."

"No he's not."

"Cash only."

"Do you have any?"

"No."

"Neither do I."

The two friends thought about that for a while. Winnie the Pooh thought. And then Christopher Robin thought. And then Pooh thought out loud.

"Think, think, think, think, think."

"What are you thinking about Pooh?"

"I am thinking that letter isn't going to read itself, and I think I read much better with a smackerel of hunny in my tummy." Pooh said smacking his lips at the sweet thought. "Why don't we go to Kanga's house? I think I saw some there just the other day. Owl is out of it you know."

"Okay Pooh, just don't go too fast. My legs are a little … er … wobbly right now."

"That's okay Christopher Robin - my legs are a little wobbly too. Or maybe they're just stuffed?" Pooh stuck out his chubby pudgy legs and wiggled his feet. "Oh well no matter, either way I'm hungry!"

Pooh and Christopher Robin helped each other to their feet and they strolled companionably down the path to Kanga's house on the far side of the merry meadow. They stopped along the way to gather some sweet smelling honeysuckle.

"Kanga? Roo? Are you at home?" Pooh called out as he poked his head in the door. "They don't seem to be home Christopher Robin. But look! They left their hunny out and the door is unlocked. We should go in to protect it."

"Protect it from what? Silly-nilly Pooh bears?"

"The woozles and wizzles. They love hunny, and that pair are always visiting Kanga's house." Pooh said eyeing a brimming pot greedily.

"Well, I guess we better then Pooh. While we are waiting I will try opening the letter again."

"I'll wait over here where I can watch better," Pooh said edging nearer the tempting pots.

"Okay Pooh. Here I go again … fourth time's the charm! HARRUMPH! MY, MY, LOOKY HERE. I HAVE A LETTER. I THINK I WILL OPEN YOU." Christopher Robin shouted looking at the envelope in his hand opting for retrying Pooh's method over that of Gopher's.

"Nothing happened Pooh."

"What did you say? I couldn't hear you." Pooh admitted as his head was stuck inside a hunny pot. "I have something in my ears."

"I said nothing happened."

"You're wrong, something did happen - Pooh is what happened," Kanga said sternly hopping through the doorway. Gopher was following closely behind her swinging his toolbox, bits and pieces of all sorts of curious stuff poking out of it at odd angles and jangles.

Shaking her head and laughing at sight of two upside down pudgy bear legs waving out of her new hunny pot Kanga was unable to stay mad at the little bear. "Oh Pooh what will I ever do with you?"

"Offer me a smackerel of hunny? This pot seems to be empty." Pooh perked up hopefully, hunny dripping off his nose and ears.

"It wasn't when we left."

"Must have been the wizzle."

"Christopher Robin!" Roo cried delightedly from Kanga's pouch upon spying the young boy. "You're back! We are so sorry we missed your First-Birthday-Party-Ever!"

"That's okay Roo. It turns out it belonged to Eeyore anyway." Christopher Robin smiled apologetically at the little kangaroo.

Roo smiled back, all of a sudden shy and ducked inside Kanga's pouch.

"Here, I brought you these," Christopher Robin said just as shyly as he held out the bouquet of honeysuckle to Kanga and Roo.

"They're for smelling not for eating," Pooh said knowledgeably as he plopped his pudgy self down at Kanga's table next to Gopher. "Don't let the name fool you like it did me."

"Nothing foolsss me Sssonny. Do you know how this workssss?" Gopher said asked Christopher Robin as he studied a small bright yellow blob in the shape of a duck with an insane smile painted on its little plastic face. "Can't sssseem to get it to do anything, might need batteriessss.

"I'm sorry Gopher, I don't know," he apologized. He'd seen something like that once in the trash bin but he didn't know its purpose other than being something for Cousin to decapitate.

"That's alrighty Sssonny, I'll figure it out sssomeday. Maybe it needs a plug …"

After Kanga placed the bouquet of honeysuckle on the table and sat down, Christopher Robin took a deep breath, determined to ask a favour before he lost his nerve. He surprised everyone with a rush of words "Will one of you help me? I need to read a letter. At least I think I do. I'm not really sure … but I think it is important and I probably should read it, but I don't know how. Two owls brought it to me, only they weren't Owl. Well, they were owls, just not Owl. I saw other letters come that looked like this one but The Family kept them all. I-I think this one is for me, but I don't know for sure and I am scared of it, because it looks like the paper Sir had. And I don't think that paper was a good thing. So I don't know if this letter is a bad thing or a good thing. I-I just don't know what to do. Will any of you help me?"

"Of course! We all will Christopher Robin!" they nodded excited to be able to do something. Eeyore had already told them that Christopher Robin needed help, and they were all willing to do whatever they could, so they gave him their complete attention … well all save for Pooh whose thoughts were being pulled away by a second pot of hunny he had spied in the corner.

"Come … sit beside me and tell us all about it, only … slower this time." Kanga kindly drew the shy boy out. This was the longest speech she had ever heard him say and she was resolved to not let him stop now. Normally the residents of the Hundred Acre Wood did most of the talking, while Christopher Robin did most of the listening. Pulling him down next to her, onto one of the long benches that sat at either side of the wooden table, she and Roo and Gopher listened attentively while Christopher Robin told them all about the hundreds of letters that had been arriving during the past weeks in surprising places, and the two midnight messengers to the garden who delivered the last one he now held.

"Will you open the letter and read it to me?" he finally asked shyly.

"I think I know what the letter might be, and if I am right, I can help you read it, but you must be the one to break the seal and open it, but first will you let me see it Christopher Robin?" Kanga asked gently.

Christopher Robin held out the parchment envelope with the spidery green writing, a little worse for the wear, but still intact.

"Why Christopher Robin it is what I thought! Congratulations! I always knew you had it in you."

Christopher Robin started to panic sure that Kanga somehow knew more than what he had told her, and had guessed what Sir had done to him. However, after looking deep into her warm brown eyes and not seeing any disgust there, he relaxed slightly and let out the breath he was holding. Kanga didn't know. She must be talking about something else. But what else could it be?

"I have what in me Kanga?"

"Magic, Christopher Robin - magic. You have magic in you."

"Magic? Are you sure?"

Kanga looked so pleased that Christopher Robin was desperate to not disappoint her, but to tell the truth he didn't know what to think. The Family told him repeatedly that there was no such thing as magic, and he had no choice but to believe what they said. On the other hand, Christopher Robin had no reason to doubt what Kanga was telling him either. Maybe the problem was that he just didn't know what magic really was. But that shouldn't surprise him - he admittedly knew so very little.

"Kanga … what is magic?"

"Let's see," Kanga tapped her forehead with her paw and thought. "If something has ever happened around you, when you were scared or angry, that you couldn't explain - that would have been the result of magic."

Christopher Robin thought about that carefully. He had always wanted to be able to do magic, to make his tattered blanket whole and warm, to make his few crumbs into a full meal, to make Sir go far away when he would start to whip him. But none of that had ever happened. No matter how scared or angry he was. The only things even remotely magical that he could recall happening, was seeing the small silver snakes that spoke to him from the visitor's boot buckles, and the box disappearing before his eyes from the worktable in the playroom. However, those things weren't caused by him. They were caused by the visitor and Sir. So if magic was real - then they must be the ones with magic in them, not him.

"No Kanga, nothing like that has ever happened. There must be some mistake," he said sadly.

"But Christopher Robin, this _is_ a Hogwarts letter. And the owl delivered it to _you_. That _must_ mean you are magical!"

"Hogwarts?" Christopher Robin paled thinking about Dumbledore. "Then this letter IS a bad thing. What did I do wrong?"

"Wrong? You did nothing wrong. And the letter is not a bad thing. It is a very, very good thing. It means you are a wizard. Maybe a little slow in developing perhaps, but a wizard nonetheless."

"A wizard? I can't … I can't be a w-wizard … I'm … I'm just a … a …"

Mortified, he blushed a deep scarlet. He almost slipped and said it! In all these years, he had always been able to avoid telling his friends what he was, and now he had almost blurted it out. He didn't want them to know. He didn't want to lose them now when he needed them the most.

"A what Christopher Robin? You are just a what?" Kanga probed carefully.

There is was, 'The Direct Question'. He wanted to pretend he didn't hear it and not answer but he couldn't overcome Sir's ruthless training, not even in his dreams. It was too ingrained. But he could perhaps not admit to everything all at once …

"I'm a freak."

There. It was done. He had said it. He couldn't take it back. He closed his eyes and held his breath for what he knew would be coming.

There was dead silence in the little house as everyone listening was shocked speechless. Only the slow and steady plop- plop- plop- of honey dripping was heard. After what seemed like an eternity to Christopher Robin, an explosion of protesting broke out. He drew his knees up to him on the bench and made himself as small as he possibly could. They were angry with him! He just knew it. He knew that they wouldn't want him around either once they knew.

"Christopher Robin! You are no such thing! " Roo's high-pitched voice objected, finally cutting through the din. "Tell him mum! Tell him! Tell him he's not a freak."

"Roo is right Christopher Robin. You have always been a fine, brave, little boy, and now you are also a fine, brave, little wizard. You are not now, nor ever have been, a freak. Why would you think such a thing?"

"Be-because … because it's true. That's what they say I am." Christopher Robin's small sobs coming out as hiccups. He didn't want to have this conversation. He really didn't. He just wanted to die.

"That's not a very positive way to think!" Little Roo's unhappy frown made Christopher Robin feel even worse.

"Besides, it'sss a flat out lie. Who would ssssay that?" Gopher asked fishing several sticks of dynamite out of his toolbox, "I can take care of them with no trouble at all. No charge."

"… Sir … Sir and Ma'am …"

The reply came so softly Kanga had to cock her tall velvety ears to catch the words.

"Those Muggles? Haven't I told you before not to believe a word they say?"

Christopher Robin wasn't really sure what a muggle was but he had heard Kanga refer to The Family as that before, so 'muggles' must mean his betters. And his betters always knew more than he did, so he had to believe them. Being a freak, he was too stupid to think for himself. Kanga must be disappointed in him.

"Yes Kanga … I'm-I'm sorry …" Christopher Robin hung his head so as not to see the disapproving look he was sure was on her face. Certainly she must be disgusted at the thought of him even being in her house.

"Sorry for what?"

"I'm … sorry … I'm a freak."

"Christopher Robin! I want you to repeat after me …" Kanga gently raised his chin so he was looking directly into her warm liquid brown eyes shining with love "… I am not a freak. I am a wizard."

"I am not a freak. I am a wizard." Christopher Robin parroted unconvincingly just as a commotion burst open Kanga's door and invited itself in.

"You are! Christopher Robin! You're a wizard too!" Piglet squealed with happiness as he blew in through the door along with a very dizzy woozle and wizzle, all three tumbling head over tails caught up in a small whirlwind caused by the ever bouncing Tigger.

"Yes he is," Kanga smile confirmed it. "He just received his letter today."

"That means you _can_ come to Hogwarts with us! Hoo hoo hoo hewoo!" Tigger said bouncing up and down in excitement so fast it was hard to tell how many Tiggers there were.

"But …" Christopher Robin's voice trailed off as he started to get a shuttered look behind his eyes.

"But what Christopher Robin? But … what now?" Kanga gently probed again, determined to not let him withdraw at this point.

"You don't understand. I-I heard them talking … after dinner … he … he will be there … and he hates me. I can't go there. I just … can't …" he finished in a desperate whisper.

"Who could hate you Christopher Robin? I think you're pooh-rific! Besides, you _have_ to come!" Pooh declared as he pulled his head out of the second hunny pot with the help of the woozle and the wizzle, who promptly moved it out of the little bear's reach to finish it off between them.

"I do? Why?"

"Because we'll have so much fun! And they have really great food! As much hunny as a Pooh bear can eat. And we Pooh bears can eat a lot of hunny." Pooh laughed reaching for the hunny pot and being puzzled to find it gone.

"And you'll learn lots of things at school too. We did." The woozle and wizzle said in unison, nodding at each other in agreement as they licked the last of the honey off from their very sticky paws then chased each other out the door in search of another house to raid.

"Hogwarts is a school?"

"Yessss, it isss. It'sss the finessst ssschool of witchcraft and wizardry to be found," Gopher chimed in. "Went there myssself in my younger daysss."

"Oh! Then I know I can't go."

"Dearie dear! Why not?" Piglet squeaked.

"School is only for normal people, not little … freaks like me." Christopher Robin said matter-of-factly.

"Did those muggles tell you that as well?" Kanga said slowly trying to control her anger, knowing Christopher Robin would only think she was angry with him.

Christopher Robin nodded 'yes' and buried his face in his knees.

"Well, all I can say to that is that they were wrong. Just like they are wrong about almost everything else under the sun." Kanga replied putting her soft paws around his shoulders and giving him a hug.

"Being wrong seems to be the only thing they do right," Pooh said thoughtfully.

"Even if … even if somehow … I could go, I still don't know how to get there." Christopher Robin said in a small whisper.

"Just meet us at Kings Cross Station on September the first. Eleven o'clock sharp. Platform 9¾." Piglet squeaked as he fussed about, straightening up things as fast as the bouncing Tigger knocked them over. "But don't be late!" the small pink pig admonished importantly, "The train leaves at _exactly_ eleven."

"What-what if I can't find you?" Christopher Robin asked still untrusting of his welcome, thinking perhaps they were just teasing him and would be glad to be rid of him. If he somehow did find the meeting place, he would probably find himself alone and abandoned.

"Eeyore and Owl will be there too, it's their first year as well," Pooh volunteered. "If you can't find one of us, look for one of them."

"How-how would I get to Kings Cross? I don't even know how I get here."

"Let me think," Pooh said concentrating so hard his button eye crossed. "Think, think, think, think, think."

"Can I just … wish it?" Christopher Robin ventured a wild guess to help him out.

"That's it! What a Pooh-amazing idea!" Pooh exclaimed. "That's how you can do it! I knew if I thought hard enough I would think of it! After all, it was your birthday wish to go to Hogwarts with us. First birthday wishes _always_ come true. So wishing should make it so!"

"… but … that wish wasn't mine to make. It belonged to Eeyore. And I-I made that wish before I knew … and now even if wishing works … he'll be there …"

"Who will be there - Sir?"

"No, not Sir, someone else … but I know he'll be at Hogwarts. I think the other man called him a Headmaster," Boy whispered, terrified even to say Dumbledore's name out loud.

"Oh Dumbledore!" his group of woodland friends said collectively.

Boy nodded, his eyes wide with fear.

"Hoo hoo hoo! Tigger has been there for two years already, and Tigger has hardly ever seen him … except when Tigger does what tiggers do best … which is to get into trouble … which Tigger does quite often … so Tigger actually sees him quite a bit come to think about it," Tigger said bouncing circles around the table.

"You aren't helping Tigger," Kanga said in a low voice. "Can't you see he is frightened?"

Christopher Robin was visibly shaking by this point, the letter still unopened in his outstretched hand.

"Please … please Kanga … take it. Please … I-I don't want it," he pleaded.

Kanga gently closed his hand over the letter and pressed it back it to his heart.

"Keep it Christopher Robin. You might change your mind. If you decide to come it has your train ticket in it."

"I can't. And even if I could … I … I won't …"

Crumpling it into a ball and stuffing it in his pocket of his blue shorts, Christopher Robin hopped up and ran out of Kanga's house, past the merry meadow and into the wood as fast as he could make his legs carry him. He was running away from the overwhelming unknown terror of Dumbledore, and toward the familiar and so somewhat comforting, terror of the dark abyss.

"Where does Christopher Robin go when he's not here?" Roo asked of no one in particular as she stood at the door, ears drooping, looking longingly after her fast departing friend.

"I don't know Roo," Kanga said coming to stand by her.

"Do you think he will change his mind?" little Roo asked wistfully, watching long after he disappeared down the path, as if by doing so she could will him to return.

Placing a comforting arm around her shoulders Kanga gave her a squeeze and said, "I hope so Roo … I hope so."

Pooh came up, stood beside the two, and gazed thoughtfully down the winding path.

"His birthday wish will come true. No matter if he wants it too or not. Wishes are like that. Once they're made, there is just no controlling them," the little bear said sagely.

"That's right. Can't take 'em back you know, itsss jussst like blowing up a sssstick of dynamite. Once you blow out the candle the wisssh is gone to where wissshesss go to be granted," Gopher added joining the group at the door.

"Too true," nodded Pooh licking one last drop of honey from his sticky nose.

"Too true," they all echoed each deep in their own thoughts.

"Oh bother …" Pooh sighed.

"What it is Pooh?" Kanga asked.

"I'm still hungry. And you seem to be out of hunny."

"Oh dear."

"Must have been the woozle."


	17. Molly and Ron Wake Up

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Thursday morning, August 1st, 1991

**Chapter 17 – Molly and Ron Wake Up**

"Mum?"

Molly Weasley looked up from her mending as her youngest son came down the stairs, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

"What are you doing up this early honey? Couldn't sleep?"

"Yeah, thought I'd get a snack before breakfast."

Molly smiled. All of her boys had healthy appetites however Ron seemed to especially have a hollow leg. Where he put it all she didn't know because he certainly wasn't fat. He was tall and lanky, his body trying it's best to grow and catch up with his hands and feet that seemed several sizes too big and gangly for the rest of him.

Of all her sons, Ron was the most insecure. Following in the tracks of five older brothers could not be easy she mused, especially with the brothers he had. All of them had excelled in one way or another at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the Gryffindor House. Bill had been Head Boy, Charlie had led his team to win the Quidditch House Cup, Percy was now a Prefect, and the twins George and Fred … well they hadn't won any awards but they were easily the most brilliant, with the most friends, and the knack for getting in the most trouble. This would be Ron's first year and he had a lot to live up to. Molly had every confidence that he would, if he just gave himself a chance to be the extraordinary boy she knew he was.

Ron wasn't the only one who would be a first year this fall. It would also be the first year of a son she had lost a long time ago. His eleventh birthday was on the last day of July, just yesterday, and she had baked him a birthday cake for dinner, just as she had every year while she wondered if he was well and happy. Her family didn't know the cake was anything special, and she had never told them as she didn't want them to think her a sentimental old fool. Besides, her children never knew they almost had another brother. So she put a candle on it and blew it out in secret, wishing the same thing for him that she wished every year - that wherever he was, that he was loved and that his birthday wish would come true. Perhaps, she thought, she would finally see him this year at Kings Cross Station when she took her children to catch the train for Hogwarts. Perhaps, she would finally see for herself that he was okay, and gain closure on that part of her life.

In the fall of 1981 when Ron was just eighteen months old and Ginny, her youngest child, less than three months, Molly had gotten pregnant one last time with her eighth child. However, it was too soon after she had just given birth to Ginny, and with the stress of the war on top of it, she had miscarried. It had been her last pregnancy.

As she was still dealing with her grief, for the loss of the child that would never be, an equally great loss occurred, the loss of two of their own, two of the Order of Phoenix members, James and Lily Potter. The Potters had been murdered by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. There had been other Order members lost in the war, but the loss of the Potter's was especially tragic to her as they left behind their fifteen month old son, Harry, alone in the world - motherless. Taking it as a sign, she and Arthur had offered to adopt the orphan as the last family member to their brood.

Molly had been so sure that their offer would be accepted she had even moved the crib - the one that Arthur had made for the lost baby - into Ron's room for little Harry, and Arthur had made him a hand for their family clock. Ron and Harry were so close in age that it would have been like having a second set of twins. Only the crib had remained empty and the hand discarded in a drawer in Arthur's workshop. It was as if she had miscarried again, the pain was as real, the loss as great. They had never found out where little Harry had been placed, Albus would never say, but she knew it wasn't with any of their friends who had offered to adopt him either. It was as if little Harry had disappeared off the face of the earth - as if he never existed.

Molly imagined that is why she had reoccurring dreams over the past decade, of a little boy growing up who was only her own in her heart, a combination of the little boys she had lost. In her dreams the boy had red hair like her own sons, but with Lily Potter's green eyes instead of the Weasley trademark brown. A blend of the baby she lost and the baby she couldn't have.

When she first started to fantasize about her dream son, they were happy dreams with him playing and laughing and growing up strong, and her giving him lots of hugs and love. However, over the years they had started to disturbed her more and more. Her dream son seemed increasing sad and unhappy, and grew quieter with each passing year. It was almost like losing him for a third time. Molly reasoned that it was only the fierce competitive streak in her that made her feel that no one else could be as loving a mother as she, and that the little boy couldn't possibly be happy unless he was with her. Wherever he was, she was sure his guardians loved him as much, well … almost as much, as she could have loved him.

The dream she woke up from this night had been about her dream son not wanting to attend Hogwarts. She rationalized it as just her anxiety over Ron leaving the nest. Molly was going to miss him when he left for school. She still had Ginny, at home for one more year, but Ron was her baby boy and now always would be her last. But perhaps he would make friends this year with little Harry, and they would be able to be a part of his life that a way.

Finishing off a sandwich made out of thick slices of bread with a healthy serving of butter and honey dripping out the sides, Ron sat down on the cosy couch beside his mother. "What are you doing up yourself?"

"Oh just like you, I couldn't sleep so I thought I would mend some of Percy's old school robes for you."

Ron's face fell a little at that. He always got hand-me-downs. He didn't know why he thought it would be any different now that he was going away to school, but in the back of his mind, he did. He would probably be the only one there with second hand robes and books.

Seeing the disappointed look on his face Molly pulled him into a fierce hug. He cuddled up next to her putting his head on her shoulder and stared into the flickering flames of the fire.

"If we could afford new robes for you, you know we would have gotten them for you gladly. However, with Percy being made Prefect …"

"I know Mum. It's okay," Ron cut her off.

'_Percy, Percy, Percy … It's always Percy.' _Ron loved all of his brothers, even the current thorn in his side Percy, it was just hard always being last. This year Percy had been named Prefect, and as a reward, had received new robes and a new owl. While Ron got his old pet rat Scabbers, and his old patched robes.

"Percy took much better care of his robes than any of your other brothers did theirs. After I clean them, they will look just as good as new," Molly promised her son hopefully.

"I'm sure they will be fine Mum." Ron assured her, then he asked hesitantly, "But … do you think I could at least get my own wand? A new one I mean? One of my very own?"

Molly sighed. She had known this was coming. She was just amazed it had taken so long for Ron to voice the request.

"I wish we could afford it honey, but it has been hard at the Ministry lately. Now they are talking salary cuts, and your Dad is already putting in so much overtime with all the raids, that we hardly ever see him as it is. It's just so difficult to make ends meet, and with all the books for you and your brothers … and you will need other supplies for first year … and Charlie's old wand being perfectly good …"

"Its okay, Mum. I understand," Ron said with a resigned sigh. And right now with his mother's arm wrapped warm around him it _was_ okay. The love he felt all around him more than made up for the shortage of material things. Truth be told, he wouldn't trade the love of his family for ten new wands. Well he _would_ trade Percy, and occasionally the twins, but none of the others. Maybe that was what his dream was about … being happy with what you had, because no matter how little he thought he had, there were others that had so much less. In his case, he should be happy he even got to go to Hogwarts as not everyone did. Even if all his stuff was junk and hand-me-down, he was still going to the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry that there was. Still, his dream left him vaguely disquieted.

Molly and Ron sat and watched the fire die down, each wrapped in their own thoughts.

"Mum?"

"Yes Ron?"

"I had a dream."

"Is that what got you up so early?

"Yeah … it gave me a kind of funny feeling and I didn't want to go back to sleep."

"Was it a bad dream?"

"It wasn't really … bad. I was just … I don't know, you'll just think I'm silly."

"I would never think you 'silly' Ron you're my little honey bear. Sticky maybe but never silly," Molly teased as she reached up and wiped a smear of the sticky stuff off his cheek.

Ron smiled at the pet name. His mum was the only one that he let use it. George found that out much to his regret when he called him 'honey bear' in front of some friends from the village and got a fat lip for his efforts. Now the twins just call him 'widdle Ronnikins' and then run for their lives really fast in the opposite direction.

"Do you remember when I used to be little?"

Molly looked at him with surprise in her eyes and dispute on her lips.

"Mum! I'm not _that_ little anymore! Anyway, do you remember when I was _younger_ how I used to have an … an imaginary friend?"

"Um … yes …" Molly was not sure where this was going, however it was bringing back the uneasy feelings she had woken up with earlier herself.

"Well, I know I'm really too old to be having an imaginary friend, but I keep dreaming about one anyway. It's not like I'm worried about going balmy or anything, but I was wondering if it was … normal. I mean … I don't want to get laughed at by my year mates. Fred and George are bad enough."

"It is perfectly normal Ron. All your brothers have had one at some time or another too. It is what mind healers call a 'coping mechanism'."

"A coping mechanism? What's that?"

"Well, sometimes if you have a difficult problem to work out, or something stressful happens, the mind will have dreams to help you work through them. Sometimes those dreams are in the form of an imaginary friend if you feel you need someone to help you do that, someone to help you to 'cope' with whatever is bothering you because the problem seems overwhelming and too big for you to handle alone. You are probably just worried about starting school. I know those brothers of yours have been filling your head with all sorts of nonsense just to scare you."

"So … the friend I have been dreaming about … he isn't real then, he is just a mechanism?" Ron had to think hard on that idea. Christopher Robin always _seemed _so real, and in his dreams it seemed that it was he, not Ron, who was trying to cope with something.

"Friends are as real as you make them. I would never say that yours is not. I am sure he is very real to you and that is what matters."

"What if …"

"What if … what Ron?" Molly probed gently.

"What if … it's the other way around?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if the friend I've been dreaming about is the real boy, and I am the imaginary one?" Ron asked thoughtfully, "I mean … what if I am his coping mechanism instead of him being mine? Could that be possible Mum?"

"I assure you Ron, you are very real boy. If you weren't real, then there would be no need for me to mend these robes."

"Maybe I can just imagine us rich then," he smirked.

"In your dreams!" Molly laughed.

"Just a thought," he retorted.

"Now why don't you help me start breakfast, your brothers and sister will be up soon."

"Okay mum." Ron helped to pull his mother to her feet, before setting the table for breakfast.

Searching the pantry he called out, "Oh bother, looks like we're out of honey again. I'm sorry Mum. I must have eaten the last of it on my sandwich."

"Are you sure? There should be plenty. I got some in the village just yesterday."

"Must have been Bill and Charlie, they just love honey and they were here for dinner last night. It would be just like those two to eat it all." Ron paused as a feeling of déjà vu came over him and all of the troubling emotions that had temporarily left him flooded back in.

"What did you say dear?"

"Nothing Mum."

Ron went back to setting the table, the unsettling feelings and thoughts swirling around in his mind again.

If Christopher Robin was a coping mechanism, what was it he needed him to help cope with? Maybe he was more nervous about his first year at Hogwarts than he wanted to admit. But whenever he woke up from dreaming about him he was just _so sure_ that Christopher Robin was real. But that just couldn't be possible. Could it? His mum didn't seem to think so. Maybe he _was_ going balmy.

No, talking with his mother had just confused him more.

It didn't make him feel any better.

Not at all.


	18. Breakfast with the Dursleys

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Still Thursday morning, August 1st, 1991

**Chapter 18 – A Tale of Two Families**

**Part One: Breakfast with the Dursleys**

Vernon Dursley was a very rich man. Rich in all things that truly mattered to him that is. Rich in his status in the community. Rich in his influence in his chosen profession. Rich in his pocketbook. As he looked with pride at his family gathered around the breakfast table, he couldn't help but feel extremely blessed. He had a shrewd social-climbing wife, who knew how to help him entertain and land potential clients, and a son who was growing up to be the spitting image of his old man. Oh … and not that Vernon considered him a member of the 'family' but he didn't want to forget his little slut money maker. He positively thrilled at the feeling of power he felt at the sight of the filthy freak cowering at his feet. Yes, Vernon Dursley was a very rich man indeed - power, influence, money, a fine wife, a strapping son, and a personal slave, who could ask for more?

Vernon had been most unpleasantly surprised the night before when his two latest potential clients unexpectedly turned out to be two wizards. Dumbledore and Snape they had said their names were. Even their names sounded abnormally freakish. He knew the name Dumbledore quite well. Whenever he disciplined the freak always he told him it was Dumbledore who was requiring him do it. Dumbledore was the headmaster from that blasted boarding school 'Hogwarts' that his late sister-in-law and her husband had attended, and Snape was one of the professors who worked for him there. Come to check up on the freak when they hadn't answered any of those bloody letters.

'_Well they were fools, and their efforts were in vain_,' Vernon thought smugly. However, the very fact that two very busy men, and supposedly important men, would have travelled this far just to check up on one small boy, spoke volumes to Vernon about his slave's potential monetary value to the family.

Vernon Dursley looked around his immaculate home with pride. It was a stout solid brick square house with everything just so. It suited the Dursley's to a tee. Petunia made sure his home was always ready for entertaining by keeping the slave working night and day to keep it spotless to the point of being sterile. And as he didn't have to bother with providing a bedroom for the freak, he had plenty of spare rooms to reserve one for his sister Marge when she visited, and another just dedicated to Dudley's ever growing pile of toys. The address was Number 4 Privet Drive. A good solid normal respectable address for a house, not like 'the cat's cradle', or 'the fur ball', or whatever it was their ding-bat neighbour, Mrs. Figg, persisted in calling her small cottage. His two-story home was the showpiece of the neighbourhood, a no-nonsense structure, just as he liked it.

Life was good for Vernon Dursley.

However, Vernon Dursley's morning didn't start out that well. He had been rudely woken at dawn by Petunia screeching like banshee that she was being attacked by a rabid animal. Running to the window, he looked out to see the little freak hitting Petunia with his fists, and two large bundles of flying feathers taking turns dive-bombing at her and tearing at her hair. She was doing her best to fend them off by swinging a rake at them with one hand, while at the same time trying to throttle the freak with the other.

Making a snap decision, Vernon grabbed his shotgun out of the closet, ran out back, took aim, and fired blindly into the mass of confusion. Vernon was sure he had clipped at least one of the beasts when he heard a loud squawk and saw bits of feathers flying everywhere. Only when the feathers settled, the birds were nowhere to be found, only a furious Petunia and a whimpering boy at her feet.

'_Too bad'_, he thought, _'I haven't had a good roasted bird for dinner in quite a while.'_

"Vernon! You could have killed me!" Petunia shrieked dropping the rake. "What were you thinking?"

"Nonsense Pet, I am an excellent shot. You should be thanking me for rescuing you from that vicious attack my dearest," Vernon said in a placating tone as distant sirens could be heard growing in volume.

"Oh my god! The neighbours! They must have heard the shot and called the constables! Get the little freak inside before someone sees him."

"Fine. Here - hold this." Vernon thrust the shotgun in Petunia's hands. Reaching down he unlocked the chain from the metal stake and started to reel Boy in. The action causing Boy to fall to all fours as he was pulled roughly across the dewy lawn, turning the dirt on his knees and hands into mud.

"Get inside freak and not a peep out of you. If I hear you so much as breathe loudly, you will regret it," Vernon growled. "Always causing trouble, you'll pay for this later you worthless piece of rubbish."

Boy stifled a gasp of pain as he fell heavily on his shoulder as Sir shoved him roughly inside the little cupboard and sealed him in the dark. Pulling himself into a ball he silently sobbed, his shoulder was throbbing where the shot from the blast had imbedded in the tissue and muscle, but that was nowhere near the magnitude of the pain in his heart over the fate of his new friends, Mercury and Hedwig. He could only pray that they were okay.

'_Does God answer the prayers of whores?'_ he wondered. He already knew God didn't answer the prayers of freaks, but he just couldn't bear it if he had been the cause of more deaths, so he would try getting help anywhere he could, even from a deaf god. He had tried so hard to protect his friends, to the point of throwing himself between them and Sir's gun, but as small as he was and with them air-born, he wasn't able to completely shield them from the blast.

A moment later the doorbell rang and he heard Sir answer the door.

"Good morning constables, and how may I help you on this fine day? Soliciting donations?" Sir asked smoothly of the two burley policemen at the door.

"G'day Sir. Er … no … I'm Constable Ernest Worthington and this is my partner Constable Bertrand Goodbody. We're investigating the report of a gunshot in this vicinity. Know anything about it?"

"I know it woke me up. I was just going to investigate the ruckus myself. I heard my wife shouting from the back garden. She probably heard it too. Terrible business what this world is coming too - hooligan's everywhere. It makes a man feel unsafe in his own home."

"Well right-o then, mind if we take a look-see around? Check with your missus? We'd like to make sure the perpetrator is no longer around."

"Be my guest gentlemen. Let me show you out to the back garden, that's where I heard the shot coming from."

Boy held his breath as he heard the men's heavy footsteps pass by in the hall. He prayed again that his friends the owls had had time to escape, and were unharmed. They had helped him so much and it wouldn't be fair if they had to pay for it with their lives. They were beautiful caring creatures and their lives were of value while his was worthless. If anyone should suffer it should be him, he wished he could have done something more to protect them.

The policemen took careful note of the immaculate house as they passed through it to the back garden. The only thing out of place was a large streak of mud across the kitchen floor that ended half way down the hall. The first policeman, Ern, was about to point it out when his partner stopped at the kitchen door and all thought of the peculiar dirt track was driven from his mind.

"Oi there missus! Put that down now. Don't want anyone to get hurt now, do we?"

Ern and Bert walked slowly towards the thin horse faced woman and removed the shotgun from her grip. The woman's hair was mussed and dressing gown was askew, and she appeared to be in shock.

"It was those bloody birds again … they-they attacked me!" She rambled, with the ground around her littered with bits of feathers.

"That's right officer, we have had a slight owl infestation lately. The ruddy things seem to be breeding like rats." Vernon confirmed in his wife's support.

"Best to call pest control then, it's illegal to discharge a firearm within the city limits. Better options you know, I'll have to cite you for a fine."

"Thank you officer, we will certainly keep that in mind." Vernon said agreeably. "Won't we dearest?"

"Yes Vernon. I'm very sorry to have troubled you officers. Let me show you out now." Petunia said taking the ticket Bert handed her and politely shooing the officers around the side of the house to where a nosey crowd of neighbours, woken by the commotion, was craning their necks to see what was happening.

"Nothing to see here folks. Go back to your breakfasts now," Bert admonished the crowd.

After showing the constables his gun permit and reclaiming his weapon, with the promise of keeping it under lock and key when not out hunting, Vernon smirked in satisfaction as the police car pulled away from the curb. There was nothing he couldn't get away with. This was further proof.

'_Now that the excitement is over, it's time to get back to business. A perfectly good morning practically ruined,'_ he snarled to himself. _'I thought I had taught the little freak whore his place last night. Guess he needs a reminder. Well a quickie before work won't hurt since I'm late now anyway.'_

A 'quick' two hours later a sated Vernon drug Boy back up from the basement playroom and shoved him across the kitchen toward the stove.

"Well Boy? What are you waiting for? I'm hungry after that workout. Get me my breakfast."

"Yes … S-s-sir." Boy replied very softly, clinging to the counter as he was barely able to stand - his knees threatening to buckle under him from the pain of his raw wounds being ripped open again. He was only grateful that Sir had not replaced the awful toy when he had finished this time. He dared to hope that meant it was the end of those kinds of lessons, and he hadn't just forgotten.

"What did you call me Boy? Do you need this morning's lesson repeated again so soon?" Sir snarled.

"… no … sir … sor-sorry … I mean … no … 'M-m-master'…" Boy replied even softer with Sir's new name as he tried to breathe through the pain, his hope dying with Master's offer to repeat the lesson.

"That's the ticket Boy. Give proper respect where respect is due." Vernon took a seat at the kitchen table with Petunia and Dudley and flicked open the London Financial Times to read the stock report, burying his nose in the newspaper and promptly ignoring everyone else.

Petunia eyed the exchange carefully. She could tell by the lascivious look in Vernon's eyes, and by the way that the freak moved very gingerly, how her poor excuse of a husband had occupied his time after she had gone back to bed to recover from the shock of the flying attack. While she still hated the boy, and there was no doubt about that, she hated her disgusting paedophile husband just a little bit more. Not only had he done the unspeakable - _twice now_ - to top it off, he had blamed the gunshot on her! How _dare_ he! Not only could he have gotten her arrested, he could have killed her by firing the shotgun wildly as he did! Maybe she should be a trifle nicer to the freak. If that wouldn't irritate Vernon, she didn't know what would.

Boy went about preparing a large breakfast of golden brown waffles topped with copious sweet cream and plump ripe strawberries, a platter of sizzling bacon and another of sausages, and a large pitcher of fresh squeezed orange juice, while the family went about complaining how long it was taking him to make it. With the meal finally delivered to the table, and each family member served, Boy took his customary place while the family ate, kneeling at Sir's feet. He was not allowed to touch Ma'am fine carpets unless he was cleaning them so he carefully knelt in the required pose, knees slightly apart, head bowed and elbows out with wrists crossed behind his strait back, just off the soft edge on the cold tile floor. Sir and Ma'am had trained him to wait submissively in this pose while they dined, so he would be readily available to serve them should they want for anything during the meal. Here he was close enough to be of service, yet far enough away not to contaminate them with his filth.

Ma'am had never allowed him to sit with them at the table in a chair, or sit on any piece of furniture in the house for that matter, as that was a privilege he had not earned. Kneeling normally didn't bother him anymore as he was used to it, but it was difficult this morning to keep the pose, his injuries threatening to make him collapse at any moment. The lack of food and water, loss of blood from the beatings, shock from being shot, and the trauma of being violated, any one of which would have taken a grown man down, let alone all the injuries combined onto one small body, forced him use all of his meagre reserves of energy just to remain still and upright while the family leisurely gorged themselves.

When Sir finally put down the paper and leaned back in his chair, Ma'am narrowed her eyes at him accusingly.

"There was food missing again this morning," she said in an icy tone. "Did you go off your diet again and make yourself a late night snack?"

Boy shuddered. Ma'am was angry. That meant he would ultimately be blamed for the missing food, even though it had not been him, it never was. He never had the opportunity to steal food, except occasionally a scrap of moulded bread crust or a bit of an apple core when The Family forgot to put in down the disposal, and tossed it in the bin instead - and those bits were too small to be missed. However, the piece of cake he had seen Sir eating night before was far too large to go overlooked. That would mean no food for him again today. Not that he had held out any hope of a meal anyway. Food had to be earned and he knew he certainly hadn't earned it not finishing the chores, and then being rebellious and trying to stop Ma'am from hurting his friends.

"Certainly not Petunia," Vernon replied with a deliberate voice equally as icy. "Must have been the freak."

Petunia narrowed her eyes further, challenging him.

"No food for you today Boy," Vernon sneered reaching out and backhanding him across the cheek to press his point.

He knew it. No surprise there.

Remembering his own midnight snack, Cousin looked sympathetically at Boy still swaying from the slap. He got a mischievous glint sprung into his eyes just before he 'accidentally' dropped a large bite of waffle dripping with cream onto floor. He immediately let out a wail.

"Mum! Make him clean it up! He looked at me and made me drop it."

"Boy - clean it up!"

When Boy didn't start to move, and just tilted his head puzzled, Ma'am tapped her foot impatiently and pointed disdainfully at the mess. "Right there boy. Do I have to do it for you?"

"No Ma'am … sorry Ma'am … I-I didn't see it Ma'am …"

Boy scooted under the table and hurried to reach the glob before the cream stained the carpet.

"There, there my little Diddydums don't you fret. It wasn't your fault, it was entirely that nasty freak's doing, but it's all cleaned up now," Petunia soothed while she loaded his plate back up. "Here have some more."

Dudley grinned wickedly as he sent another gooey bite after the first, this one landing directly in front of Boy who was still crouched under the table picking up the crumbs of sausage that were liberally sprinkled about Dudley's chair. The second bite quickly followed the first into Boy's mouth, along with the sausage bits.

"Get back to your place Boy," Sir sneered as he kicked his foot under the table making solid contact with Boy's bruised and cracked ribs.

"… yes … Master …"

Boy crawled out from under the table and resumed his pose under the watchful eye of Ma'am.

"You know Vernon … the little freak has been making a lot of idiot mistakes lately, more than normal. He probably inherited his father's bad eyesight."

"Well what do you expect me to do about it?" Vernon snorted. "Get him a guide dog?"

"No … I was just thinking there is a pair of old glasses in the junk drawer that the freak's father left here that one time they visited." Ma'am got up and rummaged in a drawer, taking out a pair of old glasses with round black frames.

"There. That should do," she said shoving them on boy's nose. "I won't abide the little freak making a mess in my house because he can't see. He left a huge mud streak across the floor as it is that he hasn't bothered to clean up yet."

Did he hear right? Did Ma'am say the glasses had belonged to his father? His father had been in this house? Boy blinked back the tears at the thought. It didn't matter, it wasn't as if his father had loved him, or had even wanted him. But maybe he could … he could pretend. He could pretend that his father had left the glasses there on purpose knowing that one day he would have them. And-and he could pretend that they were a gift from his father! Maybe with glasses he could learn to read. Maybe the letters and words would make sense. Maybe …

Boy hadn't realized how much he had not been able to see, and was going into the shock of visual overload as things came into focus. He could see the jagged edges of the holes in his shirt, the slight smear of blood on the cold tile floor below him, the scratches etched into the shiny silver toes of Sir's shoes, the knife like crease in his slacks, the way his belly strained the buttons of his shirt to hang over the thick leather belt with the extra holes punched into it to accommodate his girth, the small spreading grease stain on his garish tie, the way the bulging red vein in his neck was pulsating in unison to the tap of his shoe, the bits of food stuck in the course hairs of his moustache, the way his bloodshot eyes seemed to suddenly be only inches from Boy's face …

Boy was rudely yanked out of his thoughts as Sir gripped him around the throat and shoved him up against the wall, his bare toes barely brushing the floor.

"Have you not been listening to me Boy? Are you forgetting who you belong to?"

"… n-no Master …" Boy choked out.

"No? Are you telling me no?"

Boy shook his head. No matter how he answered now - it was sure to come out wrong.

"You belong to me now boy - you and everything stinking thing you have. I am your Master and I can do anything I want. Say it." The silver collar starting to heat and tighten around Boy's throat at Sir's touch.

"I belong to you Master … I'm s-sorry …"

"You will be sorry Boy, if you don't pay attention. Now I want you to listen and listen carefully." Sir voice was low and menacing. "You were insolent not finishing your chores last night, or the night before. You were late making breakfast. You left a muddy mess on the floor, not to mention that deplorable scene in the back garden this morning. I am greatly displeased with you slave. You will remain locked in the cupboard without food or water until I feel there will be no repeat of your unacceptable behaviour. Do. You. Understand?"

"… yes Master … I-I understand …"

"Good." Sir let go of Boy, dropping him to the ground. Boy barely had time to gasp for breath before Sir dragged him down the hall and threw him into the cupboard, slamming the door in his face. After sliding the bolt into place and locking it, he threatened through the door in the same low voice, "I am your lord and master Boy. I own you body and soul, and I won't stand for your continued disobedience and defiance. You are nothing but a freak whore and just to make sure you don't forget it - I have a few more lessons planned for this weekend when I can take more time with you. What do you think of that Boy? I hope you are looking forward to it as much as I am."

Boy lay curled into himself on the rough wood floor of the cupboard and thought a lot of things about his Master's promise of what was to come. It was an odd feeling to have Master ask him his opinion of anything, however, none of his thoughts, even remotely, was ones that would fulfil his Master's hope that he was looking forward to it. Nevertheless, his Master told him to think, so think he did - until the collar thought he had done enough and returned to its normal sleek cool band.

As he left for work, Vernon gave Petunia a cold peck on the cheek and Dudley a hearty pat on the back. Then after giving one last lingering look at the cupboard door, he pocketed the key thinking that Petunia had been a little soft on the Boy giving him the glasses. It might give him ideas. On the other hand, once the little freak got used to them and started to depend on the glasses to see - heh heh heh - he could always take them away and break them. That might be fun.

'_Life is good'_, he thought as started up the engine of his brand new black BMW while humming the tune _'I'm in the Money'. _He wondered what the day would bring and was looking forward to spending Saturday teaching the boy all sorts of new lessons in pleasuring him.

Yes, Vernon Dursley was a very rich man indeed.


	19. Breakfast with the Weasleys

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Still Thursday morning, August 1st, 1991, same time – different place

**Chapter 19 – A Tale of Two Families**

**Part Two: Breakfast with the Weasleys**

Arthur Weasley was a very rich man. Rich in all things that truly matters in life. Rich in the love of his family. Rich in his passion for his chosen profession. Rich in his love of life itself. As he looked with pride at his family gathered around the breakfast table he couldn't help but feel extremely blessed. He had a wife with a heart as charitable as it was kind, and who was as kind as she was beautiful. Molly was not only the love of his life, but his best friend. Under her care his seven children were growing up to be wonderful, intelligent, and compassionate adults. Yes, Arthur Weasley was a very rich man indeed - love, devotion, friendship, a fine wife, seven fine children, who could ask for more?

Arthur had been pleasantly surprised the night before when his two oldest, Bill and Charlie had dropped in for dinner unexpectedly and stayed the night. Charlie had recently landed a job working with dragons in Romania and Bill was working at a foreign branch of Gringotts, the wizarding bank.

'_They are such wonderful boys and their efforts are truly a blessing to this family,'_ he thought humbly. Both sons knew how melancholy their mother always seemed to get at the end of July, so they had made the time to come home for a visit. The very fact that two busy young men would notice this of their mother, and travel this far just to give her a hug, spoke volumes about the closeness of the family.

Arthur Weasley looked around his comfortable home with pride. True it was a little ramshackle, reminiscent of the old folk song about the crooked little house with the crooked little roof, but it suited the Weasleys to a tee. Everyone good naturedly pitched in on the household chores, and while the house was still messy, it was also lived in with a lot of love. There was always enough room for everyone and if there wasn't, no problem, rooms were added on as frequently as children were added to the family. Those in the wizarding world called it "The Burrow" because it was shaped somewhat like a gopher's burrow would be if it were to be plucked out of the ground and stood up for all to see. It had multiple stories with additions poked on here and there in the oddest of places. The whole house looked slightly top heavy and that a stiff breeze might make it come toppling down at any minute, but it was just the way he liked it.

Life was good for Arthur Weasley.

However, Arthur Weasley's morning didn't start out that well. He had woken with unsettled feelings after dreaming again about the son that he and Molly had tried to adopt years before. He had never told Molly of his dreams, not wanting her to think of him as a weak sentimental fool, but the dreams were disturbing him more as the years went by. He had often wondered what had become of the raven haired baby with the startling emerald green eyes that they had taken into their hearts. Now, he wished that he had never found out.

He had always found comfort in his dreams, thinking that somehow he had a mental link with the lad. Only, now he knew that was all a fantasy. The baby had died long ago. Worse - he was going to have to tell Molly, and he wasn't looking forward to it. Dumbledore had said to keep it a secret until he made the official announcement, but surely he hadn't meant to include Molly in that moratorium. He and Molly seldom kept secrets from each other, and certainly none of this magnitude. It wouldn't be right to start now.

Resolved in his decision to tell Molly everything he knew, Arthur's heart started to lightened when he was startled out of bed by a loud squawking outside, and the concerned voices of Molly and his son Ron. Running to the window he saw a distraught Molly in the front garden with Ron kneeling at her feet holding a bloodied bird in his arms. It looked like an owl, and the owl looked familiar.

'_Dear Merlin! I think its Minerva's owl - Icarus!"_

"Arthur! Help us! The owl is hurt badly," Molly called up anxiously after seeing his head pop out of the upstairs window. "Bring bandages! Hurry!"

"Coming! Just hold on!" Arthur called back as he could hear his other children starting to gather on the stairs, woken by the commotion. Arthur dashed downstairs passing the twins on his way, shouting back at them to get some warm water and healing potions.

"Oh Merlin! I think he's been shot Arthur! Let's get him inside where it's warm."

"Good idea Molly." Arthur picked up the bird from Ron's arms and carried him in to the kitchen where he gently laid him on the table, cooing soothing sounds as he went.

Even though the owl was obviously in great pain, the bird relaxed and did not fight their ministrations when he sensed he was in wizarding hands that only wanted to help. He only worried what had happened to his owlet and Hedwig. At the sight of the gun, he had hooted out to Hedwig to retreat, knowing that dead they would be of no help to the owlet. Despite the feeling of hot metal biting into his feathers, he had gone aloft as quick as his powerful wings could beat, but when he looked back, Hedwig had not followed him.

He was torn between going back and looking for her and pressing on to Hogwarts for help. Deciding that a muggle with a gun was too much for him to handle alone being injured, so he opted for Hogwarts and prayed that Hedwig had also escaped and the owlet had the sense to hide until he returned. He flew as fast as he could but the injured wing finally brought him down just as he saw the chaotic outline of what could only be the Burrow, a place with which he was familiar. The Weasleys … they knew his mistress, if he could only make it there he knew he would find help.

The family feverishly worked on the wounded bird until they were sure he would pull through, with Charlie's recent training with the dragons in Romania coming in very handy. One wing had been damaged extensively and it was a small miracle that he had managed to fly at all, let alone to find a wizarding family to help. Arthur couldn't help but wonder where the owl had been travelling that he had run across the vicious human that had attacked him. For human it was, there was no doubt with the amount of buckshot he had pulled out of the wing.

"Percy, will you please send a note to Professor McGonagall? Tell her that we have her owl Icarus here. I'm sure she will worry when he doesn't return."

"Right now Dad!" Percy hurried off to find the Weasley's family owl Errol, who was likely sleeping in the oak tree out front.

"I wonder where the message he was carrying is … Ron did you see any signs of a letter?"

"No Dad, there wasn't any that I saw."

"No worries, he probably already delivered it and was on the way back to Hogwarts. Let's let him rest now and get ourselves some breakfast."

Ginny carefully tucked the grey owl into a box with a soft flannel blanket and a cup of water and placed the box near the warm fire before joining her parents and brothers back at the table.

"Dad … who would shoot an owl?"

"Probably some muggle hunter who didn't know any better," Arthur said seriously. "I just pray to Merlin that the owl will be able to fly again, and thankful that whoever it was that shot him, wasn't a better aim."

"Thanks be to Merlin," Molly echoed. "I am sorry Arthur, but in all the excitement we've made you late for work. Hadn't you best be off?"

"So I am a little late, I would rather have breakfast with all of you before I leave. I think they will understand at the office that my family comes first. Besides, I want to take the time to say that I am so proud of all of you." Arthur beamed at the freckled faces gathered around him. "I don't think I've said that nearly enough lately, and children need to hear long and often how wonderful, and how loved they are."

"We love you and mum too." They all nodded in agreement.

"I got the message sent off, and the paper was just delivered Dad," Percy said as he entered the kitchen. Reaching over he handed the Daily Prophet, the wizarding newspaper to his father.

"The paper can wait, I would much rather hear what you all have planned for the day. After all, there won't be many more opportunities when all seven of my children are here at the same time.

Molly eyed the exchange carefully and smiled at Arthur. She was glad he was such a good father who knew how to nurture his children, and that he valued what was really important in life. Molly started to heat the griddle while listening to the animated talk around the table, until Bill and Charlie shooed her away and took control of the kitchen eager to show off their recently gained culinary skills.

The boys went about preparing a large breakfast for the hungry family, lots of eggs and bacon and nice cold pumpkin juice. With everyone pitching in to help, the meal was ready in no time at all and spread out on the long table buffet style so everyone could serve themselves. Molly was warmed by the good natured banter between her children as they easily worked together. Even when they were at odds with each other, you could tell they still cared about each other. She loved each and every red hair and freckle on their heads.

"There was food missing again this morning." Molly mentioned in a teasingly tone, "None of you happen to know what happened to my new pot of honey do you?"

"Don't look at us!" Fred and George said in unison.

Ron smirked as he eyed his two eldest brothers who were looking a little sheepish.

"… um … we were up late playing exploding snap with Fred and George … and …" Charlie started to explain.

"… and they were winning …"

"… and we needed an edge …"

"… being older and all …"

"… we needed some quick energy …"

"… and … er … we were starving?" Bill ended mischievously giving his mother big sad puppy dog eyes.

"But a _whole_ pot of honey?" Molly laughed.

"… we're growing boys?" Charlie replied with an equally impish glint in his eyes.

"Oh to be cursed with such healthy children," Molly chuckled reaching over to give him a playful swat.

Charlie ducked the swat and it landed on George who bumped into Fred who completed the chain reaction by knocking into Ron's elbow causing him to upturn his plate of eggs off the end of the table and onto the floor.

"Hey! I was still eating that!"

"Ooops! Sorry, lil' bro'."

"Boy's will be boys," Molly shook her head as she did a quick spell to make the mess disappear, and then loaded Ron's plate back up. "Here have some more."

"Arthur, you said last night when you got back from your meeting that you needed to talk to me about something today. What is it?"

"That can wait until later. Right now I just want to enjoy my family." Arthur sat back pleasantly full and unwilling to put a damper on the mood. Besides he didn't want to tell the children all the details that Albus had filled him in on the night before, that was for Molly's ears alone.

"Then maybe now would be a good time to give you-know-who the you-know-what," Molly said quietly nodding towards Ron.

"Oh! Quite right!" Arthur stood up and cleared his throat, "Ahem. Ron, I know it isn't quite the same as a new wand and robes, but in honour of our youngest son starting on his educational journey your mother and I would like to present you with this gift."

Arthur held out a small box to Ron whose jaw dropped open in surprise when he looked inside. He knew what it was … it was his father's own Hogwarts pin. The same pin his grandfather had worn, and his grandfather before him, and back as far as anyone could remember.

"I always thought you would give this to Bill," Ron said in an awed whisper. "He's the oldest after all …"

"No, we saved it especially for you. Your mother and I decided it was the generation to change the tradition."

"You don't mind Bill?" Ron asked considerately of his oldest brother, still a bit disbelieving of what he held in his hands.

"Couldn't have gone to a better brother … but I warn you … you better not lose it!" Bill teased sharing a wink with his Dad. "It is a _very_ special pin."

"Special? It's more than special - it's brilliant!" Ron just sat there with his mouth hanging open while Arthur pinned it to the chest of his maroon jumper and told him the history of the pin.

"Ron? Earth to Ron? Are you listening?"

"Wa-what?" Ron looked up, still in total shock.

"I want you to listen carefully to what I have to say … your mother and I realize that as the youngest son you don't get to be first often. However, we want you to remember that we are very pleased with you and have faith you will excel at Hogwarts in your own way. While you may be our last son, you are never the last in our hearts."

"Nope! I get that honour," Ginny piped up impishly.

"Never last!" Arthur replied giving his little girl a hug. "You are our 'first' daughter."

"I'm your only daughter."

"And what could be more special than that?" Arthur said tickling her into a giggle fit.

As he left for work Arthur hugged each and every one of his children before embracing Molly in a lingering kiss, to the amusement and cat calls of those same laughing children. Giving them all one last lingering look, he paused on the face of his youngest son and was glad that they had given the pin to him. He hoped it would give him ideas on how to be his own person and not be lost in his brothers shadows.

'_Life is good'_, he thought as started the up the engine of his old blue Ford Angelica while humming the muggle show tune _'If I were a Rich Man. '_ As he left for work he wondered what the day would bring as he looked into Albus' request. Perhaps he would forgo the overtime this weekend and spend Saturday with his family, he had the feeling after looking into Albus' request, all he would want to do is hug his children. And he had plenty of them to hug.

Yes, Arthur Weasley was a very rich man indeed.


	20. The Minister For Magic

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Thursday late morning, August 1st, 1991

**Chapter 20 – The Minister for Magic**

"Oh Cornellllliussss?" a sing-song voice rang out from the outer office. "Wherrrre arrrre youuuu?"

Cornelius Fudge, the portly Minister for Magic, rose from his chair motioning the tall thin man across from him to rise as well as he went to greet his Senior Undersecretary, Dolores Jane Umbridge at the door. Dolores Umbridge was a short squatty witch, bearing a remarkable resemblance to an extremely large fat toad. Even the pallor and texture of her skin was reminiscent of a yellowish green swamp dweller. One almost expected the pert pink bow, which was perched at a precariously jaunty angle on her head, to transform at any moment into a swarm of flies and start buzzing about the room.

"Ahem … right here Ms. Umbridge, just showing out my guest." Fudge blustered as he ushered Walden Macnair out of the office.

"Oh! Pardon me Mr. Macnair, how pleasant to see you again. Please don't rush out on my account."

"Nonsense, nonsense, Macnair was just leaving. Weren't you Macnair?"

"Yeah right Fudge, just remember what I said. Our mutual friends are becoming very _unhappy_."

"Of course, of course, and they certainly deserve to be unhappy if anyone does. After all what is rightfully theirs is rightfully theirs. Now don't let me hold you up." Fudge practically pushed Macnair out of the office and closed the door behind him.

"Good riddance. Now Dolores, I am so glad you could join me in this little celebration." Fudge waived in the direction of a tea set and invited her to sit while he pulled a bottle out of his bottom desk drawer.

"You still haven't told me what we are celebrating," Dolores replied pouring the tea and adding a liberal amount of brandy from the bottle to each of them.

"The next milestone in our ten-year long endeavour."

"Really? It's that time already?"

"The boy turned eleven just before midnight last night. In just a few more hours from now I will have my hands on the first of the Potter's vaults in Gringotts. And much of it due to you my dear." Smiling smugly, Fudge raised his glass in a toast. "Here's to us, so rich no one can touch us. I'll be Minister for life."

"And I will be right by your side Cornelius," Dolores blushed.

"Indeed. I have to say it was a stroke of genius discovering how we could gain control of all that lovely gold. Of course having the Boy-Who-Lived under our power is an added bonus, it will be great PR come re-election."

"Truly it was just a co-inky-dink," Dolores said modesty. "When I was researching through the Ministry's law library for ways to control werewolves, I accidentally ran across that old statute still on the books that allowed a child to be bound into slavery to repay a life debt. It was just lucky for us that four hundred years ago at the time the Ministry of Magic was formed out of the Wizard's Council, they missed that teeny-tiny statue when all the other slavery laws were repealed."

"It may have been coincidence you found it. However, it was still pure genius to recognize the opportunity."

"But the odds of the timing … remarkable we were able to pull it off."

"True, the timing was critical. And we found out in the nick of time. If the Wizengamot had even remembered about that old archaic statute, they might not have bother with repealing it since it is so restrictive. The right set of circumstances, where it could even be enacted, would be difficult to come by again without being contrived. Fate was on our side, since under the statue only a firstborn son can be pledged as payment for a life debt by his parent or guardian, and then only if done before the sun has set the five-hundredth time after their birth."

"I can't think of any wizard or witch who would ever even consider sentencing their firstborn son into a lifetime of slavery for a debt they incurred. It does give one pause to wonder about muggles who did." Dolores shrugged and shook her head in criticism.

"It was just a happy happenstance for us that it was the Potter whelp himself that owed the life debt to his uncle, for bringing him back to life when he froze to death. With his uncle named as guardian he had the authority to enact the contract, and had absolutely no qualms about doing so. Potter was already four hundred and fifty-eight days old on November first, by mid December it would have been too late."

"I always wondered Cornelius, how you managed to convince the Dursley's to bind him into the contract, and train him as a slave. I mean, they are muggles but he_ is _their nephew. I would have thought they might have resisted the idea."

"That was the beauty of it. It was actually quite easy. Vernon Dursley seemed unusually receptive to the idea. When I mentioned paying him a tidy sum for his trouble to sell the boy to me once he turned eleven, he couldn't wait to start. In fact, he immediately branded the baby with his initials using a cigar. That, of course, was totally unnecessary, the slave collar being quite sufficient for the purpose of branding him as a slave, but Dursley seemed to enjoy the symbolism of the cruder method, and it did have a sort of medieval flair to it. I must say though, the smell of burning flesh made me feel ill." Fudge shuddered at the unpleasant memory.

"What about the aunt though, surely she would have objected. He is her blood after all. The son of her sister."

"Ah yes the aunt … Petunia Evans Dursley. Petunia was utterly revolted by the child and seemed to bear a personal grudge against him for some reason. She called him a freak of nature, for the way he didn't stay dead, and told her husband he could do anything he wanted with him as long as she didn't have to mother him."

"Are you sure they trained him properly? From what I have read in the history books to train a suitably submissive slave you had to be rather … _brutal_. Were they up to it?"

"The process is brutal, but it is necessary to bring about the desired results. That was one unpleasant task I was quite glad to delegate to someone more … _suited_ to it," Fudge smirked. "Of course, if Dursley hadn't agreed to the terms, Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange were more than ready to on the challenge. In fact, I think they were rather looking forward to having an extra-curricular activity in Azkaban. Too bad that, they had to settle for tormenting the Dementors to get their jollies."

"Oh Cornelius, you are just too funny!" Dolores fawned.

"Ha-ha! But I digress. There was no need to worry about them training him properly. I gave the Dursley's several books on the subject to read, _'Mental Mind Games: Brainwashing for Beginners', 'Slave Training Methods through the Middle Ages', _and my personal favourite _'Beyond the Dark Arts: 101 Torture Techniques'._ I have an extra copy of that one if you would like to borrow it Dolores, it has an excellent chapter on Blood Quills you might be interested in." Fudge said taking a thick red-leather bound book off the shelf and handing it to her.

"Oh thank you Cornelius! You're always thinking of me," she cooed. "By the way, what was Macnair doing here earlier?"

"The same as always, just checking up on the Lestrange's financial investment. But after I get a hold of the Potter vaults, I won't have that obligation hanging over my head anymore. With all that gold to repay them, plus interest, I'll be able to keep Potter as a bargaining chip should the Dark Lord ever come back. Or if the Lestrange's ever manage to get out of Azkaban."

"You would really sell the Boy-who-lived to Death Eaters?"

"Not until I get control of the entire Potter fortune. I'm certainly not going to stop at just the one vault, but after that … all I can say is that for the right price anything can be bought my dear. That is the nature of business."

"True, but it is really too bad you had to deal with Death Eaters to fund your election campaign. There isn't any way to trace their connection back to you is there?"

"You mean … trace their connection back to 'us' my dear?" Cornelius said evenly, his beady eyes narrowing perceptively as he surveyed his Senior Undersecretary as if questioning her loyalty. "No Dolores, there is not, not with Black locked up in Azkaban. He was the only witness to the payoff. Being able to place the blame for the deaths of the Potters, Peter Pettigrew, and a handful of muggles on his head took care of that issue."

"Quite clever of you really, taking care of two birds with one stone as it were. Imagine, being able to get rid of a witness and the only guardian for the Boy-who-lived which I didn't have the authority to overrule, both at the same time."

"Good thing that old hag Bagnold had her hands full with the war and left all the decision making up to the department heads. If she hadn't, I doubt if I would have gotten that one by. But what with everyone so distraught about the Potter's demise, and concerned about the placement of the-boy-who-lived with Death Eaters still running amok in the countryside, they hardly even noticed when I _suggested_ to Barty Crouch, Sr. that it would be better for everyone concerned to make quick work of it, and to send Black to Azkaban without so much as a trial or questioning under veritaserum. Having Dumbledore the one on record as verifying that Black was lying about not being the Potters secret keeper, will just be one more thing for the public to hold against Dumbledore should it get out. Since it was on the strength of his testimony alone that he was sentenced without a trial."

"But if it gets out, wouldn't the public push for a trial for Black? If so, he might say something about the Lestranges!" Dolores gasped.

"No worries. By now, he's a raving lunatic. No one would believe him even if he could get someone to listen, which they won't. Actually, come to think about it, it would have been quite ironic if we had ended up sending Harry Potter to Azkaban too … I think I would have put the two on the same cell block. Just to drive Black insane that much faster knowing his beloved godson was so close, yet so far."

"What about Dumbledore? Surely he is going to question it when the boy doesn't show up for the start of term."

"It will be way too late by then for Dumbledore to save either the boy or his own reputation," Fudge chuckled. "When the wizarding world finds out that Dumbledore left their precious little saviour to die unprotected on a muggle doorstep, and that _I_ was the one that _rescued _him from the hell of his relatives tender loving care, who will they believe? I won't have to worry again about the old coot taking my job. It has been positively revolting pandering to his vanity, asking him his advice on everything as if I can't make a move without him. But that charade will go quite far in convincing the public that I had no part in this, and that Dumbledore was the driving force behind the unfortunate childhood that befell their little hero. And soon I will have all the gold, and I will have all the glory, and I will have all the power. Me. Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic - Minister for Life."

"It does have quite a ring to it."

"I should get my own Order of Merlin First Class for this one. And who knows … maybe I will let my little slave attend Hogwarts. Just to rub Albus' nose in it. I'll have to think about it. It might be fun to let the great Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore see just what Dursley did to his golden boy when he failed to protect him."

"You mean - what _you_ had Dursley do to him … are you positive that all the blame will go to Albus Dumbledore? He wasn't the one that convinced the Dursley's to turn the Boy-who-lived into a slave. I don't think the wizarding world will be too happy or forgiving about that reality."

"That is the beauty of politics … the spin. Reality is only what you can prove on paper, liberally embellished with innuendo, conjecture, and hearsay. And the crux of this matter is technicalities." Fudge sniggered as he poured himself another drink, this time straight from the bottle without the lacing of tea. "_Someone …_ whose last name starts with 'Dumb' did not dot all the "I's" and cross all the "T's" on his requests for the wards to protect the child. He was a very busy man, so we had to do it for him."

"Certainly, not our fault." Dolores agreed.

"And since I was only a consultant, and you were only a Junior Assistant Secretary, following Dumbledore's request to the letter I might add, we cannot be faulted for anything that went wrong. All the blame would fall to Dumbledore as the child's advocate, no matter what his unspoken intent was. What counts was what was put on paper. And on paper it was just all a big 'oops' on our part. And just to be sure, I carefully coached Dursley to mention quite often in the boy's presence that it was Albus Dumbledore that left him there to be their slave, and Dumbledore that has been ordering him to be … ah … shall we say 'extremely disciplined'?"

"But you've visited every year since then to renew the wards. What if the child saw you? Wouldn't he be able to identify you?"

"I always polyjuiced into Dumbledore before setting foot anywhere near the house. Just in case Potter or anyone else were to see me, and believe me getting the hairs to do that was not easy. I had to pay a pretty hefty price to house elf to get them. But that is a whole other story and it turns out I didn't have to go to that much trouble. The Dursley took my cautions to heart. They always had the boy locked up tight whenever I visited. But from all reports he literally falls apart now at the mere hint of Dumbledore's name. If anyone should ever question the boy, even under veritaserum, Albus Dumbledore will be the one he names as the cause of all his misfortunes."

"Very sly of your Cornelius. No wonder I look up to you so much." Dolores batted her eyelashes, her bulging eyes gazing at him adoringly.

"Well it is time my dear, why don't you fetch the contact and I will be off to Surrey and get this over with. I still have the distasteful part of the slave contract to … ahem … _consummate …_ as Dumbledore of course, before I can start running my fingers through those piles of gold galleons." Fudge stood up and opening up his briefcase to make sure his polyjuice potion was there while Dolores unlocked the cabinet.

"Um … Cornelius …?"

"What is it Dolores? Just get the file. I need to get going. Time is money." Fudge said with a note of exasperation in his voice.

"That's just it - it's not here to get."

"WHAT?"

"The file with the contract. It's not here."

"Are you sure?"

"Davies… Dawlish… Diggory… Dolohov… Dumbledore… Dutton… Dwyer… Edgecombe… Entwhistle… no Dursley… Could it be filed under something else?" she shrugged helplessly.

"Get out of my way woman!" Fudge shoved her aside and started rifling through the files himself. "It must be here! It must be … it's … not."

Glowering Fudge waved his wand over the cabinet and muttered _'Quis Incedo', _a spell to reveal the names of anyone who had accessed the files.

"Merlin's pants! It was Dursley!"

"Dursley? Vernon Dursley? But how would he have gained access?"

"I had him come last week to discuss his final price for selling the boy."

"Here? Wasn't that risky?"

"It was late at night when I thought no one would be here. I left him alone in the office for just a few moments to divert that bumbling Arthur Weasley who showed up after hours to file his reports on the muggle artefacts raids. Dursley must have taken it then. Maybe it's not too late. He may not have known how to execute the contract. After all, he is just a muggle."

"Oh dearie!" Dolores wheezed, putting a hand to her mouth. Her pink lips forming a shocked 'O'.

"What now?"

"Well … this morning I did overhear that a magical contract involving a muggle arrived about midnight last night to Amelia Bone's office. Of course, I didn't think anything about it at the time. You don't think …?"

"Of course I think! What else could it be? And you had better start thinking as well, _Ms._ Umbridge." Fudge's eyes narrowed as he stared down his nose at her. "Well?"

"Yes indeed Corn- I mean, _Minister_. I shall just go now and find it, shan't I?"

Fudge frowned tenting his fingers together in disapproval as he watched Dolores Umbridge scurry out of his office toward the elevators.

He had thought he had Vernon Dursley's under his thumb.

He had thought he could read the man like a book.

He had thought nothing could go wrong.

Now all he thought was that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was right all along.

Never trust a muggle.


	21. The Department of WW and W

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Language and mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Still Thursday late morning, August 1st, 1991

**Chapter 21 – The Department of Wards, Waifs, and Werewolves**

On the second level of the Ministry of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt was perturbed to say the very least. The normally stoic Auror crumpled up the copy of the document he had been reading, tossed it in the air, and with a quick _'Incendio'_ turned it to ash. Then as the flakes started to fall lazily to the floor, he flicked out a quick _'Reparo' _to restore the document. Catching it out of the air, he smoothed it out, a little singed around the edges but still readable, then he crumpled it up again in frustration and tugged on his gold earring as if that would somehow help things make sense.

"Merlin!" he swore under his breath.

'_How could the man have been so… so… so careless?" _Careless being a word that Kingsley never thought he would use to describe the very severe and exacting Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. However, what else could it be, but an error in brewing the veritaserum? Or … was the 'error' actually one done with purpose?

The paperwork that Kingsley had been able to locate on the case of Harry Potter was scanty at best, and all of it was a muddled mess.

In the fall of 1981, Millicent Bagnold had been Minister for Magic for just over a year. It was at a time when the war against the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters was at its zenith, stretching the Ministry's resources thin. For in the wizarding world any 'odds and ends' that needed handled always ended up the responsibility of the Ministry, and there were a lot of 'odds and ends' caused by the war. Everyone was doing double duty and filling in on jobs for which they had not received training. There were many gaps in the workings of the Ministry. These gaps resulted in Departments assigned tasks that they did not know how to handle, simply because there was no one else to handle them.

It seemed that the Potter case had fallen haphazardly into several of these bureaucratically caused cracks. It also seemed to Kingsley Shacklebolt that Fudge seemed to be at the bottom of most of the cracks, even though he could not directly link him anywhere. The man was a slippery as gillyweed and twice as slimy.

Since Death Eater attacks rarely left survivors, there was no Department in the Ministry to handle any orphans left behind. The few children left without parents to care for them, such as Neville Longbottom whose parents had been driven insane by torture, had other blood relatives who readily took them in. There just was not the need for a dedicated resource for waifs in a Ministry whose budget was already bare bones. The Potter case pointed out this unique gap in planning for magical children's welfare.

As the child's advocate, Dumbledore had made the request for blood wards to be placed around the Dursley residence. However, the request had fallen into another one of these cracks in the befuddled bureaucracy. Normally the wizards living in the residence placed the wards and maintained them. However, as the last surviving member of the Potter family was only fifteen months old at the time, and the residence he was going to was a muggle one, there was no one to place and maintain the wards.

The responsibility fell to the Ministry. The most likely department to handle both of these requests would have been the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, led at that time by Junior Minister Cornelius Fudge, as the loss of the James and Lily Potter and the orphaning of Harry was certainly a catastrophe for the wizarding world. That particular department also worked closely with the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee, so had some experience in dealing with muggles. But Fudge had claimed his department had an acute shortage of personnel to handle it, as he was busy cleaning up the mess left by Sirius Black, who had killed Peter Pettigrew along with twelve innocent muggle bystanders, in the middle of a busy muggle street.

As time was critical, Millicent had done the practical and expeditious thing. Going down the list of departments at her disposal, looking for where 'wards' and 'waifs' would fit, she got to the end alphabetically and her finger landed on The Department for the Control of Werewolves. Thinking back to the last monthly budget meeting Millicent remembered that it was one of the least overstretched departments as many Werewolves had gone into hiding, or left the country entirely, because of the new Werewolf Registry laws enacted by Dolores Umbridge. That left that department with little else to do.

With a stroke of a pen, it was now the Department of Wards, Waifs and Werewolves, with the Department of Catastrophes named as consultant so Fudge could lend his expertise to the issues. Therefore, in the end it was Dolores Umbridge, Junior Assistant Secretary, of the new Department of W.W. & W., who on paper was the responsible party for placing Harry Potter and the wards at Privet Drive, with the concurrence of Albus Dumbledore as acting advocate for the child.

Kingsley could see why Dumbledore would have readily agreed to the Dursley placement, given the only alternative plan the Department of W.W. & W. had approved at the advice of the Department of Catastrophes, was for the baby's placement in Azkaban for his 'security and safety'. That alternative, while outlandish on the surface, had a budgetary practicality that could not be denied. It was the only alternative arrangement that the Ministry could control on such short notice, and it was uniquely affordable as the infrastructure was already in place. It wouldn't have cost the Wizarding world a Knut.

The Department of W.W. & W. for various technical reasons had turned down each of the wizarding families, who had applied to take in the baby. The reasons included: -too many children already in the household, -no other children in the household, -household already under stress due to family deaths from Death Eaters, -household a current target of Death Eater attacks, -household out of the Ministry's jurisdiction, -applicant's questionable allegiance to the Ministry, -applicant was in Azkaban, -applicant was a werewolf, -applicant was half giant, -applicant was part goblin, -applicant was a ghost, -applicant was single, -applicant was too old, -applicant was too young, -applicant was not stable financially, -applicant had health issues, -applicant was too busy, -applicant was too idle. The list of reasons went on and on, until the only two choices remaining were the Dursley's or Fudge's 'recommendation' of Azkaban.

'_If I had been forced to make the same choice, between placing a baby with a muggle family and leaving him to the tender mercies of the Dementors in Azkaban, I would have made the same choice as Dumbledore.' _ Kingsley thought with a shake of his head. '_It really comes down to the fact that Dumbledore didn't really have a choice.'_

'_Funny though,' _Kingsley reflected. '_Just one month after placing Potter at Privet Drive, Umbridge got an unexpected promotion from Junior Assistant Secretary of an obscure department, to Senior Assistant of one of the most influential departments in the Ministry. The result was that she was then working directly for Fudge, and the continuing responsibility for maintaining the wards came with her to Fudge's department. And since then, every time Fudge got promoted Dolores followed on his heels.'_

'_Very funny … funny as a rampaging mountain troll.'_

It was obvious to Kingsley who it was who had been pulling the strings back in 1991. However, on paper Fudge's hands were clean. Even when it came to the wards - the documents that Kingsley uncovered showed that it was Albus Dumbledore acting as the child advocate, who made the request of the Ministry for the blood wards. They were _'to protect from outside harm the magical child residing at Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England, as long as the child calls it home, or until he comes of age, whichever comes first'_, and it was Umbridge's team that had placed them. If something had gone wrong with them, Fudge's hands were clean. Kingsley could guess who 'consulted' on that bit too.

Suspicious, Kingsley had himself checked the wards at Privet Drive just that morning. When he arrived in Surrey, he found all bloody hell breaking loose and momentarily wondered if there were any wards in place at all, as it seemed as though a Death Eater attack had taken place.

He had apparated to Magnolia Road, and walked to Number 4 Privet Drive to find a police car out front with lights flashing and a crowd of pyjama clad neighbours on the sidewalk, craning their necks toward a huge commotion in the back garden. Arabella was there and recognized the Auror so drew him aside to fill him in on the incident. Apparently, Petunia Dursley claimed that a flock of rabid owls had attacked her, and she had fired at them with a shotgun in self-defence, waking the entire neighbourhood.

Kingsley felt the incident was disturbing, normally owls do not just attack muggles for no reason, there had been no reports of rabid owls in England for decades, let alone an entire flock of them. In addition, why would Mrs. Dursley be in her back garden at dawn with a shotgun handy? It was not normal behaviour, even for a muggle. Then he had caught the look on Mr. Dursley's face, as the Police car pulled away. It was one of indescribable malevolence, rather than one of concern for his distraught wife. None of it made any sense to the Auror _unless …_, he speculated, the Dursley's were both insane.

Kingsley placed a quick notice-me-not charm on himself as the crowd disbursed so he could stay behind and run diagnostics on the wards. There were several layers of complex wards in place. One layer prevented apparition in or out of the area, another layer prevented those who meant harm from entering, these two layers Kingsley surmised was to prevent Death Eaters from getting their hands on the saviour of the wizarding world, and he had expected such. Yet still another layer Kingsley detected puzzled him, it prevented bursts of uncontrolled accidental magic. What possible protection could that be? It would only affect the magical child. Kingsley could only surmise that it had been put in place so that the Dursley's would be more comfortable raising the child if they didn't have to deal with magical eruptions, and to allay any misbegotten muggle notions that accidental magic was dangerous to them.

However, the fact remained that the wards were in place and they were strong. Kingsley could find no weakening in them anywhere. His scans did register a momentary surge in the wards as if something magical had happened but he couldn't tell what it was, and shortly afterwards Vernon Dursley came out of the residence, singing and looking pleased as he left for work. Surely if something had been wrong in the house, Dursley would have been looking worried at the very least.

To sum it up, as the wards were there, than in Kingsley's mind so was Harry Potter - no matter what Vernon Dursley and that damnable death certificate said. He didn't see how there could be any other explanation. If the magical child were not in residence, the wards would not be that strong, the tie between the blood of the aunt and the blood of the magical child was what fed them. If either the child or the aunt were to be gone, for more than eleven consecutive months, the wards would dissolve. No child, no aunt, no wards. It was as simple as that.

Kingsley wanted to go in the house and find Potter for Albus, but the layer of wards that had been set up to prevent Death Eaters from entering, also prevented anyone else magical from entering unless they had been specifically invited in, and he had not. This added security was overkill in Kingsley's opinion. Nevertheless, it was there, and the closest the wards would let him get was the perimeter of the property. Kingsley supposed that was the reason behind Dumbledore and Snape attending the dinner invitation in muggle disguises. From what little he had observed of the Dursleys this morning he strongly doubted that they would have invited the two in if they had been aware they were wizards. Kingsley tried to scan to see what was going on in the house, but the wards prevented even his scans from breeching the perimeter. These wards were top notch. The strongest he had ever seen outside of Hogwarts. The ministry must be paying thousands of galleons a year to keep them up.

The only explanation Kingsley could come up with, to rationalize the whole scenario, was that the veritaserum Snape used on Vernon Dursley hadn't worked, and the death certificate was bogus. Perhaps there was something nefarious going on. Maybe someone had bribed some muggle official to issue a false certificate. Perhaps that same someone, had helped to cover it up by purposely botching the potion, thus enabling Vernon Dursley to falsify his testimony. Severus Snape knew how important Harry Potter was to the wizarding world. Kingsley wondered if Snape perhaps had an agenda of his own to mislead Dumbledore. Maybe he intended to spirit the boy away and then instigate some sort of plot to hide him for his own purposes, or even to turn him over to the Death Eaters. Snape was a Death Eater himself … well an Ex-Death Eater if you believed him. However, just how far could you really trust him?

Dumbledore swore that Snape was loyal to the light, and that he trusted him implicitly, and Kingsley respected Dumbledore's opinion. So if he believed that Snape was not a traitor, than what else could have happened? Many a wizard depended on Snape's expertise and his services were in great demand, on top of a full teaching schedule, and working as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. He was brewing almost twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, for months on end. Could it have just been a matter of overwork and an accidental bad batch? You can't really blame him for an occasion bad batch, could you?

'_For something this important - bloody hell, yes I can.' _Kingsley thought.

"Merlin, what do I do now?"

"Oi there Kings'. What's got you in the mood?" Nymphadora Tonk's bubble-gum pink head popped up over the cubical wall with a quizzical expression on her pixie face.

"Nothing Tonks," Kingsley sighed. "At least nothing you can help with."

"Don't let the pink hair fool you I am really quite adept at a lot of things," Tonks replied jovially as she tripped over her own feet on her way in and landed with an awkward thump in the chair across from Kingsley. "Give it a go. I might surprise you."

"I'm just following up on an old case. It really isn't anything I can talk about."

"Has it got anything to do with this?" Tonk's asked holding out a file folder.

"What's that?"

"I was just in Amelia Bones' office and she asked me to hand this to you personally - ASAP. That means 'As Soon as Possible' you know, so I hurried right over. She said it came in last night to be filed with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She said she hasn't had time to look at it, but thought you might be interested because of the name on the file and something you asked her about earlier today. She wouldn't tell me anything else. So what's up?" Tonks leaned in and whispered conspiringly.

Kingsley's face was grim as he saw the file was clearly marked 'Dursley', and he reached out to take it.

"Ahem."

Kingsley and Tonks froze at the sound of someone clearing their throat and looked up to find Dolores Umbridge standing in the cubicle doorway, smiling a simpering little smile that immediately grated on both their nerves.

"Ahem. Excuse me. That is classified." Plucking the file out of Tonks outstretched hand before either of them could react, she singsonged a '_thank you' _and then turned on her heels and left as abruptly and she came.

"What was that all about?

"Merlin only knows with that one, she is one scary witch with a capital 'B'. But I do wonder why she wanted what was in that file. Damn … too bad Amelia didn't read through it first." Kingsley said thoughtfully.

"Think the toothache wanted it?" Tonks wondered watching the squatty woman march off quickly down the hall.

"The who?"

"You know … the toad's boss … the Minister …. Fudge … the toothache … the sweet that will rot your teeth."

"Tonks! Don't let them hear you call them that," Kingsley admonished her while he secretly agreed with the very fitting nicknames.

"Posh forget the old toad, now back to what's got you all twisted up, I saw the …"

"I'm sorry but I really can't have this conversation with you. As Umbridge said - it's classified."

"But I saw …"

"Tonks!"

"But I …"

"I said no."

"But …"

"Haven't you got paperwork to finish up?"

"Fine _Boss_. Paperwork it is _Boss_. Right on it _Boss_." Tonks huffed as she stomped noisily back to her own cubicle, tucked in the corner of the department. Tonk's cubicle was littered with potted plants each one strategically placed to catch the drips from the leaky water pipe directly over her desk.

"_So Tonks you had the file in your hands - did you look in it?, he might have asked. But, noooooo … I can't have this conversation with you, he says instead. Well of course I did, I would have said, wouldn't be doing my job if I hadn't. I am an Auror. We like to know things. What I would like to know now is just who is this Dursley creep? And what does that old toad Dolores Umbridge got to do with it?"_

Tonks flopped down in her chair and leaned her chin on her hands, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her eyes.

"But noooooo … they never listen to the pink haired girl."

_Drip…_

_Splat!_

A fat drop landed squarely on the top of her pink head.

"Figures."


	22. Best Laid Plans

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of extreme child abuse of a sexual nature. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Thursday about noon, August 1st, 1991

**Chapter 22 – Best Laid Plans**

"I found it Minister!" Dolores Umbridge said triumphantly as she waved the file over her head at Cornelius Fudge.

"It's about time," Fudge said as he quit his pacing. "And please Dolores, call me Cornelius. I apologize that I was rather short with you before – it was just stress."

"Quite all right _Cornelius_ I understand completely. Why don't you sit down and I'll give you a shoulder massage to help you relax." Dolores Umbridge guided the Minister over to a chair and started to knead his muscles. "There is that better?"

"Ah … much. Now let's see what damage that muggle has done to our plans," Fudge said flipping open the file.

"Merlin! The idiot." Fudge muttered getting angrier by the minute. "The stupid … brainless … asinine … muggle idiot."

"What is it Cornelius?"

"Dursley has practically destroyed ten years of hard work in one night."

"To be fair Cornelius …you just _waited _you didn't really _do_ any of … the work …" Dolores's voice trailed off as Fudge started to glare at her.

"As I was saying, that muggle has almost destroyed all I have worked for."

"Whatever did he do?"

"See for yourself," Fudge snorted holding out the document.

"Oh my … what does it mean?"

"It means that a bloody werewolf gets all my gold. Unless …"

"Unless what?"

"Unless Dursley hasn't completed consummating the contract. Hm … it may not be too late."

"You've said that twice now Cornelius. Just what do you mean by _consummating_ the contract?"

"According to the slavery statute it is the final step in binding the slave permanently to his master. If you had completely read the fine print of statue you brought me, you would know it already, and I wouldn't have to take the time to explain it to you." Fudge said with exasperation.

"I do apologize, Cornelius, but I am _curious. _I thought that was what the slave collar we found in Borgin & Burkes shop in Knockturn Alley was to do. Wasn't the contract just to transfer ownership of the boy to you?"

"The contract was much more than that Dolores. It works in conjunction with the collar. The slave collar was only the first part. It brands the child as a slave and enforces the master's will. Once the collar is put on the child, only his master can remove it."

"I am confused Cornelius, you gave Vernon Dursley the collar to put on the boy. Then isn't Dursley his master …?"

"The mere act of putting on the collar did not make Dursley his master. He was only his trainer until he did this…" Cornelius Fudge indicated the file in front of him with a sneer.

"Then what was the purpose of our looking high and low for that collar?"

"The slave collar learns as the child is disciplined, what behaviours are acceptable for the slave and what are not, and what the punishment for unacceptable behaviour is. The 'rules' you might say. Once the contract is enacted, and the slave bond is complete, the collar will punish the slave appropriately for breaking any of the rules if the master is not available to do so, or of he does not care do it himself. The collar does not care who the master is, it only cares how the slave behaves. That is why it was so important for him to be trained to be totally submissive, so when I got him he would do anything I wanted without question. Back when slavery was widespread, there were camps where masters could send slaves to be trained. Why should the masters dirty their hands with the disgusting work if they could pay someone else to do it?"

"But how did Dursley ruin it then if you can still take over as his master? All I see on the contract are some brown scribbles, and where someone wrote: _'one blanket, one book, and __2,500 pounds', _in blue fountain ink._"_

"That is precisely how Dursley ruined it. The contract is the final part of the slave bond and requires the master to take the slave by force three times to enact it …"

"Ick! … by force? … you mean …?" Dolores squealed cutting him off.

"I most certainly do," Fudge replied after a long pause.

"Cornelius … dare I ask it? You would do that? To a … boy? I mean, to have to be that close of contact with … ick … a child?"

"For that much gold, yes I would."

"But wouldn't the boy be able to identify you, if he was ever questioned about what happened?

"First the collar wouldn't allow him to speak of it, and secondly you forget the polyjuice potion. It wouldn't be me he would identify, but Dumbledore."

"Still, is it really … _necessary_?"

"The sexual act is the most lasting and binding. To ensure the slave bond is never broken, it is necessary. Moreover, until it the binding of the contract is complete, the slave can be released from it, if the life debt is paid in another way. Nevertheless, once the bond is complete the slave is a slave for life - it is irrevocable. They can be sold to a new master, but they will always remain a slave."

"But why three times? Surely once would be sufficient," Dolores said with a slightly revolted look on her face.

"It takes three times to complete the bond and after each time, the collar must be activated by the master. The first time the slave turns over all his worldly goods to the master, the second time it enforces the slave's complete submission to the master's will via the collar, the third time seals him body and soul to his master and permanently welds the collar so that it can never be removed. This final binding also transfers control of the slave's magic to his master, this way if the master dies so does the slave. This ensures the slave will never retaliate against the master."

"So when Dursley wrote on the contract _'one blanket, one book, and _£_2,500 pounds' _…_" _Dolores said hesitantly.

"Finally! You see the problem. That was the first binding turning over all his worldly goods. I am assuming these brownish stains are where Dursley had Potter make his mark in blood to consent to it. The problem was that Dursley didn't know about the gold in Gringotts, he only listed the paltry sum in that debt ledger he has been keeping on the boy."

"But I don't understand …"

"Think woman! Think! I waited until Potter turned _eleven_. There was a reason for that! I could have enacted the contract at any time once the boy was adequately trained, but it was very important to be patient and wait. When the Potters were killed, and we had the child dumped in our lap, I had the department investigate the family's finances - as was our right so we could make claims to be reimbursed for any costs."

"And to make sure we were not being saddled with a pauper," Dolores piped in.

"Right," Fudge said giving her a look to squelch any further interruptions. "That was when I discovered just how much gold the Potter Estate had, and how the trust funds worked. The day the boy turned eleven the first vault that holds the Potter Educational Trust Fund became his to access. Ten years ago, it had over two million galleons in it. With interest, it is now probably closer to five million. That is just the Trust Fund, there are over ten vaults in the Potter's holdings, the rest become available when he turns of age, but until the boy turned eleven the only gold available was limited to what was actually spent on his care, which according to Dursley wasn't that much, less than a pound a day. I couldn't keep a goldfish alive on that."

"But why didn't Dursley spend more then, if he would have been reimbursed for it?"

"Because I didn't tell him the gold was there. I didn't want him depleting the stores just to buy sweets for that fat son of his. Beside which, if he knew how much gold was involved do you really think he would sell the boy to me?"

"So since the vaults weren't listed among the boy's worldly goods on the contract …"

"Gringotts will only pay out the £2,500 pounds withdrawal the boy authorized them to pay by signing the contract, those squiggles you pointed out, and since the slave contract prevents the slave from owning any further worldly goods, the rest would go to the next beneficiary listed on the Potter's will."

"Lupin." Dolores breathed, her eyes narrowing at the thought of the werewolf that hadn't had the decency to run to a different county or go into hiding with the rest of his misbegotten ilk.

"Yes, Remus Lupin. That is … unless Dursley hasn't acted on any of his … ahem … _baser_ instincts."

"And if he has?"

"Then we had better pray he didn't also enact the collar to seal the bonds. If he has, and has carried it through all three times, then while I can still buy the boy and then dispose of the muggle for causing all this trouble, I will never get my hands on the gold. I really want that gold. I _need_ that gold."

"And if he hasn't?"

"Then it might not be too late to amend this list. The goblins won't act on it until it is irrevocable. Let's go see what we can salvage out of this mess my dear," Fudge said as he strode pompously out of his office, Dolores trailing closely behind, stepping into the elevator with him to descend to the Atrium level.

"Oops! Wotcher! Sorry about that!" A bright pink haired girl ran smack into Fudge as he stepped out of the lift, landing in an ungainly pile at his feet.

"Get out of my way, you bumbling clod." Fudge snarled as he stepped over her on his way out. "Make a note of that Ms. Umbridge. Fire all low calibre employees."

"Got it, Minister." Dolores jotted down the note, and then using Tonks as a step, she followed him out of the building.

'_Hm … wonder where the toad and the toothache are off to in such a huff_." Tonks pondered watching with a curious eye as Minister Fudge and Dolores Umbridge left the Atrium.

"I think I'll just tag along and find out. After all, I _am_ an Auror. We_ like_ to know things. Wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't. Don't want to be one of them _low _calibre employees they were talking about. Now, do I?"


	23. We're not just ugly fairies

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Language and mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Thursday early afternoon, August 1st, 1991

**Chapter 23 – We're not just ugly fairies**

Remus Lupin stood at the corner of Diagon and Knockturn Alleys, shifting from foot to foot. Across the street from him was the imposing white marble building of Gringotts. He always hated dealing with Gringotts. Whenever he had to go to the wizarding bank, the short little goblins always managed to make him feel small and insignificant. As a registered werewolf, he had a hard time finding, and keeping, gainful employment and so had very little in his vault. At times, it only held a fine layer of dust. He wondered why he even bothered to keep a vault. He supposed it was pride and vanity on his part, wanting to believe that someday it would be different.

"Oh well, here goes nothing." He took a deep breath as he crossed the street and pushed open the burnished bronze doors, flanked on either side by scarlet and gold clad goblins. Passing through the entry hall, he came to a second set of doors - this set of silver, also flanked by guards. The silver doors were even more imposing than the bronze ones and Remus paused to read the inscription:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed__  
__of what awaits the sin of greed, __  
__for those who take, but do not earn, __  
__must pay most dearly in their turn.__  
__So if you seek beneath our floors__  
__a treasure that was never yours, __  
__Thief, you have been warned, beware__  
__of finding more than treasure there__. _(PS/SS 5)

The words had always given him pause when he entered, but today it seemed as though they were directed specifically at him, as if somehow even the doors knew that he had no business being there and were mocking him. At the threshold of the central marble hall, he stopped to search the faces of the countless goblins seated at the long counters edging the hall, for that of the old goblin in charge of the Lupin family vault.

Finally spying the stooped goblin halfway down the hall on the left Remus approached him hesitantly.

"Hello Bogrod."

"Why Mr. Lupin, it has been quite a while."

From his perch on a tall stool behind the counter, the little goblin looked down his long hooked nose at the shabby wizard before him. Normally he had no sympathy for the wizards and witches that came into Gringotts but he had always felt a particular kinship to the client before him now. As a werewolf, the majority of the Wizarding world looked down upon him as being a lesser being, the same as goblins were. However while Goblins knew this was just propaganda on the part of wizards, this part wizard part werewolf actually seemed to believed them when he was told he wasn't as good.

Bogrod thought this sad. Goblins had no doubt but that theirs was actually the superior culture, and in fact knew that with their control of the financial aspect of the wizarding world, they actually wielded far more power than the arrogant wizards realized.

'Key?"

"Ah … no."

"Do you need a duplicate key made?"

"Ah … no." Remus was already unsure of how to proceed to find out the information Albus wanted.

"Do you not wish access to your vault?"

"Er … not today Bogrod, thank you. I was wondering if we could talk … er … in private?"

"Very well."

The old goblin slid off his stool and walked towards one of the doors, motioning for Remus to follow him. After ushering his client into a private office just off the main hall, Bogrod sat behind a desk and silently observed him while waiting patiently for him to voice his request.

"Ah … I was wondering …"

"Yes? Wondering?"

"Yes. Ah … I was wondering if you could tell me the status of the Potter holdings in Gringotts." Remus finally spit out the request rather rapidly before he could chicken out.

"The Potter holdings?"

"Ah … yes … James and Lily Potter's estate."

"James and Lily Potter?"

"Yes, I believe I said that already."

"And what is your interest?"

"I believe I was mentioned in the … ah … I am a … er … I am a beneficiary?" he finally stammered out without much conviction.

"And you wish to make a claim on their estate?"

"Um … yes … I suppose so."

"One moment please Sir."

Bogrod got up from behind the desk and shuffled out through a small door that Remus had previously overlooked.

'_I knew this was a bad idea,' _Remus thought and squirmed in his seat. He had the uncomfortable feeling that someone was watching him with a disapproving stare. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck raise with goosebumps. _'Bogrod probably went to get the dragons. Damn that Albus for getting me into this.'_

Glancing around the office, he noted that paintings of revered goblins covered every wall. An each of them seemed to have their eyes trained on him, and none of them looked very congenial. Remus gulped and loosened his tie wishing he had stuck to his convictions and refused Albus' request.

"Mr. Lupin, if you would follow me Sir."

Remus startled with the sudden reappearance of the old goblin and hurriedly got to his feet.

Ducking through the low doorframe, Remus followed Bogrod ever deeper into the honeycomb of offices until they stopped before a pair of golden doors flanked by another pair of goblin guards. These doors were even more impressive and forbidding looking than the bronze and silver pair which he had already passed through. Remus paused as he saw that they too held an inscription. Reading it, Remus once again questioned the sanity of acquiescing to Dumbledore's request.

_If you enter here with an eye to gain,  
do not bring forth any idle claims.  
For those that covet what's not theirs  
will find only trouble as their shares.  
If you believe we will think twice  
better take heed of this advice,  
it's best to remember before you tarry,  
we are not just ugly fairies._

Bogrod paused in front of the doors and knocked respectfully, the sound echoing hollowly inside. The doors silently swung open to reveal the office of the founder of Gringotts. Once again, painting covered the dark walls, only these were depicting scenes from the goblin wars, each one gorier than the next. At the far end of the cavernous office was a massive desk wrought of goblin gold and inlaid with precious gems. Behind the massive desk was the oldest goblin Remus had even seen - the most remarkable feature being his gnarly hands. Remus stared transfixed at the skin of the goblin's hands, stretched translucent over the bone thin fingers, the long curving nails, almost as long as the fingers they were attached to, one by one picking up golden galleons and stacking them neatly into tall columns on the desk surface in front of him.

The ancient goblin stopped his counting and indicated to Remus Lupin to sit in the chair across from him. Bogrod went around the desk to stand respectfully behind his employer's chair.

"I am Gringott, the founder of this establishment. I understand from Bogrod that you wish to make a claim against the estate of James and Lily Potter. Is that correct?"

"Er … yes?" Remus' voice cracked a bit with stress as he answered and he pulled at his collar. His tie suddenly felt like a noose. He had always assumed that the goblin Gringott had passed away years before. No one in the wizarding world had seen him for at least a hundred years, even though there were rumours from time to time that he was still alive. Now here he was just feet away from one of the most influential goblins in history. Why did he merit such an audience? Was Gringott going to feed him to the dragons personally?

'_What in Merlin's name am I doing here? I'm going to kill Dumbledore if I get out of here in one piece.'_

"Under what circumstances do you believe this claim is warranted?"

The ancient goblin phrased his questions carefully. The Potter estate was the largest holding in all of Gringotts, easily fifty times the size of the next largest estate - that of the Malfoys. The estate had not only the vaults of the Potter's but also those of some of the most ancient lineages in the wizarding world. He needed to handle this claim carefully as the wizard across the desk from him did have a potentially legitimate claim, if a little premature. Gringotts could not afford to slight him should the claim become valid, at the same time they could not afford to breech the confidentiality of the current owner. It was a fine line to walk.

Gringott waited patiently for Remus to reply. What the wizard said next, and how he said it, would go a long way toward helping Gringott decide how to handle the unexpected, and yet not unwelcome interview.

Gringott had not been pleased over the last decade with the handling of the Potter estate by the Ministry, what with their continual extravagant claims against the estate for maintaining of wards around a muggle residence, and yet nothing for the child's care. Nevertheless, it was not the way of Goblins to interfere with the dealings of wizards, even though he had personally declared the Potter baby an honorary goblin and authorized Gringotts to vouch for the half-goblin, Professor Filius Flitwick, when he had applied to adopt the Potter baby upon the deaths of his parents. It was the least Gringotts could do for their largest client, even if he was a mere babe. It displeased Gringott immensely that the Ministry had summarily dismissed Flitwick's application without the due consideration he felt it merited by that toadyish witch Umbridge. She insinuated that goblin were not fit to raise a baby, even a wizard one. As if a muggle could do a better job. Ha!

His long-standing doubt, as to the wisdom of the Ministry placing the child with muggles over goblins, was confirmed the previous night when a withdrawal authorization came in along with an itemized invoice. Not only had the withdrawal request and invoice arrive in a goblin made box, the withdrawal had been written on slave contract that could have only been enacted through the use of an ancient goblin made silver slave collar.

Goblins firmly believed that all Goblin made objects belonged to the Goblin that made it. 'Purchasing' a goblin made object was in actuality only a rental contract to a goblin. It gave the purchaser the right to use the object only for the lifetime of the original purchaser. At the death of the purchaser, by Goblin code, the rightful ownership of the object once again reverts to the Goblin maker. Wizards however never seem to abide by this code. Instead of returning the objects, they passed them down to their heirs, or sold them to other wizards. This practice was a bone of contention for the Goblin community, for not returning the objects was paramount to stealing in the Goblin's viewpoint. In Gringotts opinion, it was bad enough when wizards made illegal use of Goblin made objects, but it was an affront to the entire Goblin community for a muggle to do so.

When the withdrawal request arrived, the goblins tested the document for authenticity and verified it was the original document. As per their agreement with the Wizarding world about such contracts, they then created a true and exact duplicate and dispatched it to the Ministry of Magic, for filing with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

It was disturbing to Gringott that his young depositor's heritage and freedom had been valued at so little. If they had not verified beyond a shadow of a doubt that the bloody signature was the blood of Harry James Potter, by comparing it to a sample registered with Gringotts by his parents at the time of his birth, Gringott would have suspected a fake - as the 'signature' was but an undecipherable scribble. It made him wonder as to how said 'signature' on the appalling document.

As he saw it, not only were stolen goblin made objects being used against the best interests of his largest and youngest depositor, they were being used by a muggle no less. As the contract tested as two-thirds incomplete when it arrived, he had authorized holding up the payment for the time being, much to his dismay however, in reviewing the contract again this morning it showed that the binding was now one one-third incomplete. He had the box containing the contract and invoice placed in the first Potter vault for safekeeping in the meantime, but he would not be able to continue to delay the payment once he knew the contract was complete. Of course, down in the vault, he could ignore the matter a little longer. Especially, if he conveniently forgot to check on it …

Now, here was a solution to his ethical dilemma in front of him in the guise of a weary, unhealthy, prematurely greying, and decidedly tattered werewolf.

"Your claim?" Gringott prodded again tapping his long nails together.

"Ah … yes … I … am under the impression that I may have been … er … named as beneficiary in the estate of James and Lily Potter. And I was wondering … ah … wondering …"

"Yes? Wondering?"

"Yes … wondering … um … why Gringotts had not contacted me already about the will."

"And why do you believe that we were remiss in not doing so? Did not James and Lily Potter have a living blood heir?"

"Ah … yes … um … Harry James Potter, but we … ah … I have recently received information that he may no longer be living."

"Oh? And by what means did you receive this information?"

Increasingly hot and uncomfortable under the ancient goblins interrogation, Remus could no longer see any reason not to tell the entire story, even though he had promised Dumbledore to keep as many details as possible secret until the announcement. Dumbledore was not here having those Goblin eyes peering unrelentlessly into his.

"Well … last night Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape visited the muggle residence where Harry Potter was supposed to be living, and questioned the uncle under veritaserum when they did not find him. They were told Harry died back on November second of 1981."

"Indeed. How unfortunate."

"Ah … yes. And now …"

"And now?"

"Well … we … er … that is I … was wondering why Gringotts hadn't contacted me a beneficiary by now. As executors of the will, did you not know that Harry Potter was dead?" Remus asked, finally getting out the question that Albus was the most interested in having answered.

"So … your interest is for the gold?"

"Geeze … Merlin … NO!" Remus cried breaking down. "I didn't even want to come here. I don't care about the gold … it was just the only thing I could think of to get me in to ask what Albus wanted me to ask. I just want this to be all a bad dream. I just want Harry back … I want him to be alive. No amount of gold is worth his life."

"So, would you say that as a _potential _beneficiary that you have a _valid concern_ about Gringotts handling of the estate which needs to be addressed?"

"No … no, don't take me wrong, I am sure that you've taken care of it quite well. As I said I don't care about the gold."

Gringott was about to lose his patience, could not the wizard see he was trying to help him? Wizards! Leave it to them to be dense and make things more difficult than necessary.

"Do you feel the need, _**any need at all**_, to inspect the vaults?"

Remus didn't like the look on the goblin's face, he was not sure what it meant, but he was sure it didn't bode well for someone, and he just hoped it wasn't he. The ancient goblin seemed to be pressuring him to answer a certain way, but he didn't understand what it was he wanted him to say. Then he noticed Bogrod standing behind Gringott imperceptivity nodding a 'yes' to him.

"Well … I guess I should … you know … _inspect _… that is if it is all right with you, of course."

"Of course, Sir. It is quiteunderstandable under the circumstances. Excuse me for a moment while I make arrangements for your _inspection_." Gringott rang a golden bell on his desk and two more Goblins entered through a small door on his right. After speaking rapidly to them in gobbledegook, Gringott once again turned back to address the wizard.

"Of course we will have to verify the information you presented in order to process your claim. In the meantime, I have authorized Ragnok and Griphook to escort you to the first of the Potter vaults. Security is heighted right now, as we had some unpleasantness yesterday with an attempted break-in to one of the lower vaults. Therefore, I must ask you to remember that during your _inspection_ of the items within the vault that we cannot allow you to make any withdrawals. But do feel free to look around, and by all means, _open_ anything you want to, to be sure that absolutely _everything_ is in order."

Remus followed Ragnok and Griphook out of the office, relieved to be out from under the ancient goblin's gaze and yet puzzled by the entire interview. Suddenly he realized that Gringott had deftly avoided answering his question, and turned back to ask it once again, only to have the golden doors swung shut in his face. The interview was over.

'_Well, guess I'm not getting anything else out of that one.' _He thought rubbing his nose ruefully and getting into the cart with the two Goblins. He had barely sat down when the cart started downhill at breakneck speed into the depths below, continuing its rapid descent through countless hairpin turns until it came to a screeching halt in front of a small vault door. Taking a small gold key from his pocket, Griphook open the door and stepped aside allowing Remus access.

Remus halted in the entrance overcome by shock and awe at the piles of gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and bronze Knuts before him. He had always known that James's family had been well off, but he had never realized it was to this extent. James had never flaunted his wealth in front of his friends. After marrying Lily, they had settled down in a modest cottage in Godric's Hollow, the whole white picket fence and tire swing in the garden affair. It was far better for raising kids they had said, and they had wanted at least a dozen. They could have afforded a grand mansion without even putting a dent in this vault he thought. Moreover, didn't Gringott refer to this as just the _first_ vault? Didn't that mean there was more?

"Ahem." Griphook pulled Remus out of his thoughts as he tried to get his attention.

"Er … yes?"

"We were asked to remind you to make sure you look carefully around to make sure all is in order."

"Ha-ha. It seems fine to me …" Remus laughed nervously.

"We were asked to remind you to make sure you took your time and looked _everywhere_ sir."

"I wouldn't know where to even start … I'm sure Gringotts have taken well care of it. With your excellent security I sincerely doubt anything is missing."

"We goblins have a saying regarding missing items," Ragnok addressed him with a small bow. "The search is brief when limited to that which has not gone astray."

"What? What do you mean by that?" Remus asked clearly puzzled, but the goblins had retreated back into the tunnel to give him privacy for his inspection.

"Alrighty … this is getting more and more bizarre. First an interview with Gringott himself, all those weird questions, then they let me into the Potter vault before verifying my claim. Even under the pretext of just inspecting that was a stretch of their rules. Now they're throwing riddles at me? What are they trying to tell me and _not _tell me at the same time?"

As he tried to make heads and tails of what was going on, Remus idly walked over and picked up a small ornate carved box that was in the centre of a small pedestal table, as if on display. Walking around the vault through the very dusty piles of gold, books, and artefacts, which littered every conceivable spot on the floor, he tapped the box to his temple in concentration.

"The search is brief when limited to that which has not gone astray … not gone astray … something that has not gone astray … well if it has not gone astray, then it is not missing, and I said I wouldn't know if something was _missing_, and then they toss out the riddle. Well it would be obvious I wouldn't know if something was missing, since I don't know what should have been here in the first place, but maybe I would recognize if something was here that shouldn't be …"

Taking another slow look around at the piles and stacks crowing the vault with a new eye, Remus was still lost as to what the little Goblins were trying to convey. They obviously had a message for him, but he was just too distraught and too tired to figure it out. However, each time he moved to leave, Ragnok and Griphook blocked the door and glared at him. Obviously, he was not getting out of here until he figured it out.

'_Damn that Albus.'_

Walking back towards the door he remembered at the last minute the box he had been carrying around.

"Oops! Can't make withdrawals! Better put this back!" Remus went over and placed it on the table where he picked it up.

"Wait a minute … what was it Gringott said? 'Feel free to look around, and _open_ anything you want' … hm … _open, open, open _… is there another door?"

Remus searched thoroughly but couldn't locate another door in the solid rock walls and floor.

"… _open, open, open _… what else do you open? I hate riddles, why can't people just be direct and say what they want to say? Okay think Remus … what else do you open? There must be something here I am missing, but what? You open books … and there are thousands of books in here. It would take me years to open them all. But all these are covered in dust, which means they certainly haven't been moved in ages, so they can't be what they are trying to tell me about … _open, open, open…"_

Remus was still standing deep in thought, drumming his fingers on top of the small ornate box, when he noticed the two goblins glaring from the doorway.

'_Great … what have I done now?'_ he wondered and then noticed that this time they weren't glaring at him. This time they were glaring at the box on which he had been nervously drumming. _'Hm … I wonder …'_

"What else do you open? You open boxes, especially a box that is the only item in this vault that is not covered with a decade or two of dust." That statement seemed finally to satisfy the two goblins as they retreated once more to the tunnel.

"So what do we have here, I wonder." Remus mused out loud as he pried open the lid and took out an aged piece of parchment and a small ledger book. The parchment was very old and fragile. He shrugged, it was not too strange for someone in the wizarding world to have an old parchment … but wait a minute it _was_ strange that said parchment had the words '_one blanket, one book, and _£_2,500 pounds' _written across the bottom of it in blue muggle fountain pen ink, and that it bore an unmistakable scent. Remus held the document up to his nose and sniffed deeply. It was blood - blood that smelled very familiar. And what about the ledger that was in the box? It was a typical muggle accounting item, not something you would expect to find in a wizard vault at all.

"Ahem … remember you are not allowed to _remove_ any items in the vault." Ragnok said from the doorway as the wizard looked up from the items in his trembling hands.

"Is there anything in the rules against making a copy to take with me?"

Ragnok and Griphook exchanged satisfied looks.

"None that we know of Sir," Griphook replied, grinning at the wizard.

'_Gods!' _thought Remus, '_Goblins are even scarier when they grin …'_


	24. I may have lost my marbles

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Still Thursday early afternoon, August 1st, 1991

**Chapter 24 – I may have lost my marbles**

"Molly, I have something I need to tell you …" Arthur nervously paced back and forth in his office practicing how to break the news to his wife.

"Molly, do you remember when …"

"Molly, there is something you should know … um …"

"Molly …"

"Yes dear?" came the deep baritone of Kingsley Shacklebolt in answer.

"Kingsley! I didn't hear you come in."

"Obviously. I don't think Molly can hear you from here either," he said amused.

"No, right, sorry. I didn't realize I was talking out loud. I was just trying to think of how to tell Molly about Harry. She had her heart set on adopting him back when he was first orphaned, and I think she … well we … still consider him one of our own children. She is going to be heartbroken. I just don't know how to tell her …"

"I wouldn't be so quick Arthur to do it," Kingsley said plucking a stray owl feather off Arthur's robes and pushing him towards a chair. "You look far too tired for that scene right now anyway, besides you're moulting."

"I am a bit tired at that," Arthur admitted collapsing in the chair. "Had an early morning owl rescue to perform, it was a bit of excitement. But never mind that … what do you mean about not being so quick to tell her? Do you think I shouldn't? I don't like keeping secrets from her."

"No, you do what you need to do for your marriage. What I meant was that I've been checking out why the wards didn't work as expected, as Albus asked me to, and I couldn't find anything wrong with them."

"But then why didn't they …"

"Warn him? I don't know, from what I can see they should have. They are working perfectly. According to the paperwork, they were in place before he left Harry on the Dursley's step. Therefore, if the weather conditions were potentially fatal they should have immediately alerted him. That's why I'm here to see you. I left right after Albus gave me the assignment, so I didn't hear what he asked of you and Remus. After my own investigation I was curious what it was he was having you check out."

"This," Arthur said handing a glowing orange marble to Kingsley.

"What is it?"

"Albus charmed it to tie into the wards to keep him alerted what was going on with Harry. It was how he thought he was watching over him for the past ten years. It's a mood indicator, it changes colour according to the child's emotions. Albus said it had never indicated any problems."

"So this is why Albus thought Harry was okay all these years?"

"Yes. He asked me to check it out because it is a muggle toy, a marble to be exact, and he thought perhaps that caused it to malfunction."

"It's a simple enough item, I don't think there is anything that could go wrong with it, and I can't imagine Albus flummoxing a basic monitoring charm, even if it was placed on a muggle marble."

"You are right. I tested it, and couldn't find anything wrong with either the marble or the charm. From all indications, it is monitoring as expected. But how can that be? You heard Albus. They questioned the uncle under veritaserum, they even produced a death certificate. Harry is dead. You can't argue with that." Arthur finished flatly.

"Sure I can," Kingsley retorted.

"But how? Under veritaserum …"

"I have my own theory about that."

"What?"

"One word … Snape."

"Severus?"

"What else could it be but a bad batch of veritaserum?"

"I don't know … but Albus trusts him implicitly, and I trust Albus. Besides, Severus is a Potions Master, one of the top ones in his field, there are few better. He doesn't make bad batches, even on a bad day. Also Albus was there, he questioned the uncle himself, I am sure he would have noticed if the potion wasn't taking effect."

"Well something is off and I want to take another look at those wards. When I was there this morning, I thought I read a peculiar surge in them and I'd like to take another reading. Would you like to join me on a little field trip to Surrey? We could check out this marble of yours at the same time."

"Right now? I can't push my supervisor too far, and I was late this morning as it was. I need the job - I have seven children. And since it was for Albus, and not the Ministry, I was going to wait until this weekend to go out there on my own time - after I figured out how to tell Molly that is … I knew she would want to come along."

"It won't take long." Kingsley prodded him.

"Well if there is a chance … any chance at all … maybe I had better check it out first. I guess I could take a break."

"As if you were getting a lot done with your pacing anyway. Let's get going then. We'll apparate, it will be faster."

"Fine. I would also like to stop in at Arabella Figg's if we have time," Arthur suggested. "Albus tells me she has been living nearby the Dursley's. It might be helpful to ask her a few questions."

"I saw her there this morning. I hadn't realized he'd assigned to watch Potter. I just thought she had just moved somewhere she could breed her kneazles in peace."

The two men apparated to Magnolia Road and Kingsley cast a notice-me–not charm on himself and Arthur as they started on foot toward Privet Drive. As they approached the house, Kingsley put out his hand to stop Arthur from running headlong into the perimeter of the wards.

"This is the closest I could get earlier. The wards are set not only to keep out Death Eaters, but everyone magical. You have to have an invitation by the Dursley to get past them. You'll get quite a nasty jolt if you get any closer."

"Well I guess I can understand the heightened security for the Boy-who-lived, but that seems a little overboard. How did the ministry expect anyone to be able to check on him?"

"I have been wondering the same thing," Kingsley frowned. "Maybe they didn't want anyone to do just that."

"Albus did say that he, Minerva, and Hagrid had all been warned by the Ministry not to come back after they left him there, or they would move him to an alternate location. Maybe this was the Ministry's way of ensuring they followed that advice, so the muggles wouldn't feel threatened."

"That could explain it I suppose, and it could also explain the secondary level that suppresses accidental magic."

"What? Another level of wards?"

"Yes, I detected it earlier today. The second layer prevents bursts of uncontrolled accidental magic. I already surmised that the Ministry added it for the muggles peace of mind. After all, if the Boy-who-lived could defeat You-Know-Who at the age of fifteen months, he had to be very powerful even at that age. Imagine the power he would have developed as he grew older. They were probably concerned about their safety if they took him in."

"I guess we will never know. You said earlier, that something appeared strange with the wards that you wanted to recheck. How are they reading now?" Arthur asked as Kingsley finished his incantations.

"Strong. Solid. Not a blip. I must have been imagining it earlier. And now that Albus' monitoring marble is nearby, I can see where it is tapped into the wards. It is definitely working directly off from them. Harry Potter must be in there. He must be! I can't think of any other way to explain it." Kingsley frowned in frustration.

"Wait a minute Kingsley … someone is coming," Arthur said silencing the Auror. The two men stepped back into the cover of a massive hydrangea bush and watched as a boisterous gang of boys came up the sidewalk toward Number 4.

"Hey Dudley, can we come in and play with those new video games you got for your birthday?"

"_That must be Dudley Dursley, Petunia's son," _Arthur whispered._ "Albus said she had a child about the same time as Lily."_

"Dunno' Piers, let me check and see if it's okay. You guys wait here." Dudley dashed up the walk and into the house, shutting the door firmly behind him.

"Why's he always gotta to check first Piers?"

"Dunno' Malcolm. Just do I guess."

"Hey guys come on in, it's okay!" Dudley called out waving them in.

"Got any of those killer chocolate chip biscuits today Big D? I'm starved." Gordon called out as the boys headed for the front door.

"Nah, the cook was … um … tied up today. But Mum picked up some crisps and sodas at the market so we won't starve." The two concealed men could hear the boy reply to his friend as the door shut behind them.

"Merlin!" Arthur swore as he glanced down at the marble in his hand.

"What is it Arthur?"

"I think I just discovered key we were missing to this whole puzzle, and it has nothing to do with Severus botching a potion, and explains why the wards could be working even with Harry dead."

"What is it then?"

"It seems that Harry Potter's cousin Dudley Dursley is also magical …"

Arthur held out the marble, it was pulsating between gold and yellow in rhythm to Dudley Dursley's laughter that they could hear coming from the open upstairs window.

"So if Dudley is the one the marble is monitoring … and the marble is tied to the wards, then …"

"This is not good. I liked my explanation a lot better," Kingsley said with a shake of his head.

"So did I," Arthur said his voice catching. "Let's get out of here. I guess I'll have to find some way break it to Molly after all."

The two men walked despondently the two blocks to Arabella Figg's cottage on Wisteria Walk each lost in his own thoughts. As they approached Arabella's, a large black cat streaked out from under a mulberry bush, ran through Arthur's legs, and into the cottage through a cat door.

"Mr. Tibbles! What? We have guests? Alrighty then …"

A mousey looking woman wearing tartan carpet slippers and a housecoat popped out from around a bright blue door and welcomed the two approaching wizards.

"Well I'll be! Arthur Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt! So many visitors all of a sudden. Practically ignored for ten years and now I can't turn around without tripping over someone from the Wizarding world," Arabella Figg said ushering them into her cramped living room.

"Snowy! Mr. Paws! Off the couch - make room for our guests!"

"Sorry I haven't stopped in to visit before, but kids you know … keeps you busy. And in truth, I didn't know you where you were living." Arthur offered by way of apology to the flighty squib. "I see you are still breeding kneazles."

"Yes, have to do something to keep busy. Heaven knows it is dull around here, except of course for this morning. Quite a ruckus then, wasn't it Kingsley? Would you like a nice cuppa?"

"No thank you Arabella. I hate to be abrupt, but we have a couple of questions and not much time." Kingsley said all business.

"What do you want to know?" Arabella asked, getting them tea anyway.

"What can you tell us about the Dursleys and the time when Harry … when Harry Potter died?" Arthur asked.

"It is more what _can't _I tell you, than what I _can_. I can't tell you much about what happened when Albus first left Harry there - I didn't move in until the next week. By the time I did, it was the talk of the neighbourhood about how someone had left a baby on their doorstep and he froze to death. It was in all the muggle papers too. Here I saved the clippings. See for yourself. Albus didn't have time." Arabella went to the bookcase and drew out an old scrapbook, and handed it to Arthur.

"I don't understand this, why didn't we know about this earlier? If you knew back in 1981 why are we just now hearing about it?"

"It's not my fault. I reported it the minute I found out, and then hourly after that for days, then daily, then weekly for a while, then monthly. No one ever listened. I tried to contact Albus directly, but they prevented me any communication with the Wizarding world that didn't go through them first … for _'security reasons'_ they said. I tell you it has put a real damper on my owl post kneazle business, I haven't gotten a single order yet."

"Who are _they _Arabella? Who did you report it to?"

"The Ministry of Magic, to that Umbridge witch at the Department of Wards, Waifs and Werewolves. I kept asking for another assignment, but she kept telling me to stay where I was. That my being here was part of the agreement they made with Albus Dumbledore that I would remain here no matter what. So for Albus I stayed, I didn't want to disappoint him even though I couldn't see a point to it. What I don't understand, is why he never stopped in when he came to visit."

"What do you mean … when who came to visit?"

"Albus Dumbledore. Who else do you think I've been talking about? He has come to visit the Dursley's on November first every year, just like clockwork. He just never stops here. I've tried to get his attention, but he always disappears into the Dursley's house before I can catch up to him, and no matter how long I wait, I never catch him coming back out. If I didn't know better I would think he was purposely avoiding me."

"That's odd. Albus normally enjoys a frivolous chat over a good cup a tea. I'm surprised he didn't stop here both coming and going," Arthur said his brow wrinkling into a frown taking a sip of his own cup. "Just when we solve one riddle, we have another."

"I agree. That is odd," Kingsley agreed. "Albus didn't mention anything about coming here, except that first time and then again last night. In fact, I am sure he said he hadn't been here once in-between."

"But I saw him," Arabella asserted.

"Could you have been mistaken?"

"Hardly! I know Albus Dumbledore when I see him. Long grey beard, blue eyes, outlandish style in wizard robes. Unmistakable."

"And you saw him go into the house?"

"Yes. Definitely."

"That settles it Kingsley! I need to get into that house. The answers to all the riddles must be in there, and I have to know. I have to be sure. But how am I going to get past the wards? Albus warned me against approaching the muggles, and Severus thought there was something strange too."

"How did they get in last night? Do you know?" Kingsley asked. "I left the meeting before he went into the details."

"Albus made a dinner appointment with Vernon Dursley, under the pretext of being a potential business client. I doubt if he would fall for that one again quite so soon."

"I really don't see what the problem is," Arabella piped up. "If you want to get past the wards it is really very simple, well at least as far as the garden. The house itself might be another matter. You'll have to talk yourself into that one. I never have been able to. Petunia seems to think I am a pest, but you two could probably sweet-talk her. However, even if you can't get into the house, the garden is definitely doable. I go in it myself once a year, so I am sure you can too."

"HOW?" both men yelled simultaneously at her rambling on and on.

"No need to get all het up gentlemen! It's just that the day after tomorrow is Saturday." Arabella announced as if that explained everything.

"And what does that have to do with the price of caldrons?" Kingsley knew that this was just a waste of time, why Arthur had wanted to stop here was beyond him.

"You don't have to get all snippy Kingsley …"

"Sorry, Arabella …_ please …_ go on." Kingsley said grinding his teeth at the irritatingly slow conversation.

"As I was saying … can I pour you some more tea? Perhaps a scone?"

"NO," Kingsley growled.

"Um … certainly Arabella. That would be nice. We BOTH would," Arthur held out his cup with a meaningful look to Kingsley. It was obvious to him they wouldn't get a clear answer out of the lonely woman, until they participated in her tea party.

"Fine," Kingsley said holding out his cup as well.

Arabella beamed as she played hostess, serving them hot scones with butter and jam.

"Alrighty then, that's better. Now where was I? Oh yes … the day after tomorrow is Saturday, and Saturday is the Garden Fete of course."

"Of course … the _what?_" Kingsley asked choking on his scone.

"The Garden Fete."

"And what in Merlin's name is a Garden Fete?" Kingsley asked exasperated.

"The annual neighbourhood garden show of course. Petunia always wins you know. Don't know how she does it though since she never works in her garden. However, I can't deny her garden is always the best. The rose beds, never a petal out of place, and those hydrangeas …"

"Excuse me for interrupting Arabella, but how does Mrs. Dursley's expertise in pruning bushes help us get past the wards?" Arthur cut in as he saw Kingsley about to lose his patience again. "The wards prevent anyone magical from entering without being invited in. And I highly doubt they will invite any more wizards in after they threw Albus and Severus out last night."

"Well, isn't it obvious?" she said looking from one wizard to the other. "Well isn't it?"

"Obviously not." Kingsley returned dryly.

"Well, a_ny_ garden that is entered in the competition is open to public viewing for the price of a raffle ticket. It's an open _invitation _to enter the garden."

"Are they expensive?" Arthur asked excitedly grasping her meaning immediately. Molly had once entered a similar garden competition in their village of Ottery St. Catchpole. Of course, they hadn't won a prize but that hadn't been the point. The children had been complaining of having no one but their own siblings to play with, so Molly used it as a way for them to be able to meet their muggle neighbours who had been afraid to approach the odd looking house.

"Not too, only four bob a ticket or for a pound you get six," Arabella said rescuing a roll of brightly coloured cardboard coupons from Snowy's claws.

"But how do we get them? We can't get close enough to the Dursley's door to knock on it to ask to buy tickets to their garden show." Kingsley said a note of frustration creeping back in.

"You don't need to."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean … I'm the treasurer of the neighbourhood association."

"So?"

"So … _I_ sell them." Arabella said smugly enjoying the look of amazement on the faces of the two men.

"How many will it be gentlemen? Hm? Two? Cat got your tongue?"


	25. A Very Important Question

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Thursday afternoon, August 1st, 1991

**Chapter 25 – A Very Important Question**

'_I'm sorry. I'm sorry_._ I'm sorry. Whatever I did to make you hate me Dumbledore, I'm sorry. I really am. I'm sorry I'm a freak. I'm sorry I'm bad. I really am trying to be good. Why can't you forgive me?'_

Boy huddled in the corner of the dark stuffy little cupboard under the stairs, clutching his tattered blanket and storybook to his chest for comfort. His shoulder felt like it was on fire, and his hand had swollen up painfully. He was trying very hard to stay as still as he could and not to move a muscle. Whenever he did, it just hurt. Everywhere. Everything. Inside and out. In addition, it was getting hotter as the day wore on, and as the beads of sweat rolled down his skin, they would hit his raw wounds causing him to flinch at the salty sting, and everything would hurt again. He had been hurt before but nothing like this, and Sir … no 'Master' had promised more … much more.

Boy wasn't very good at telling time, especially when locked in the cupboard, as the days and nights all melted into one dark dismal stretch of nothingness until he had no point of reference. So he wasn't sure how much time needed to pass until the weekend arrived, but as much as he dreaded its eventual arrival, he also wished it would get here soon. Then at least the anticipation would be over.

The anticipation, the endless waiting while he thought about what was to come made it worse. Never really knowing when it would come, just that it would. Boy didn't know what all Master had planned for his 'lessons' but he had seen what Master else had in his toolbox and it scared him. The more he thought about it the more scared he was, and the more scared he got the more he thought about it. The continual tension, keeping him on edge, make it hard to get the sleep he desperately needed for his body to start mending.

'_Maybe Kanga and Eeyore were right. Kanga said I wasn't a freak, and Eeyore said I was a something not a nothing. Maybe I am a wizard. Maybe I am a something.'_ He pushed his new glasses up his sweaty nose, and carefully pulled the letter with the spidery green writing out of his pocket and smoothed it flat against his knee.

'_Maybe I should try to go with my friends to Hogwarts. Maybe as Tigger says, I won't see him and he won't see me. Maybe he won't even find out I'm there. But if he does, he'll just send me back here. But maybe … just maybe … maybe he won't and maybe it would be better than being here. At least I would be with my friends, someone who likes me … a little …'_

Boy tucked the letter inside his precious book and curled up in a small ball, as far away from the door as he could possibly get. He just needed to rest. He would close his eyes for just a minute …

The faint blue glow started to surround him even before his eyelashes finally fluttered shut.

Christopher Robin stood on tiptoe and peered in the window of Pooh's hollow tree. Inside he could see Tigger and Piglet industrially helping Pooh pack a large trunk while Kanga and Roo supervised. The laughter coming from the tree was almost too much for him to bear. They all looked so happy.

"C'mon Piglet I bet I can pack you in my trunk too." Pooh teased the little pink pig chasing him round and round the trunk till they both started getting dizzy.

"I may be a Very Small Animal but the ideas in my head are way too big to fit in your trunk P-P-Pooh." Piglet said firmly hiding behind Kanga.

"Besides Pooh … it looks like your trunk is too full of my hunny pots for anything else to fit." Kanga said removing a couple of pots from the trunk. "Now isn't that more roomy?"

"It would be just as roomy if the hunny was in my tummy," Pooh said sagely.

"Is your tummy the only thing you ever think about Pooh?" Piglet asked.

"Think, think, think … well Piglet when I think about it - my tummy _is_ the biggest part of me. So it needs the most thinking about."

"I can't disagree that it is at least ten times the size of your brain."

"Is that why everyone always makes fun of me?"

"Of course not Pooh! There are _plenty_ of other reasons to make fun of you," Tigger said with all sincerity his head popping up out of Pooh's trunk where he had been inspecting the packing job, a sleeve of a robe caught on one ear.

As Roo's giggle tinkled out the open window, Christopher Robin dropped back down to his feet a little dejected.

"I did want to talk to someone about the letter again and ask a Very Important Question about what I should do. But I guess I shouldn't have come back. They don't need me. They are all so happy and better off without me. I can't go to school anyway. I can't even read or write. I'm sure you probably have to be able to do that to go to school. Cousin can, and he goes to school." Christopher Robin whispered regretfully as he started back down the path past the six pine trees and the heffalump trap.

"I'll go visit Eeyore, maybe he will be happy to see me. He taught me all about the letter 'A' maybe he would teach me another letter if I asked him, maybe he would know what I should do. I do wonder how Piglet gets all his big ideas though …"

"Hallo-o-o-o-o?" Tigger called out, poking his head so far out the window he was practically upside down. However, he was a moment too late and missed seeing Christopher Robin disappear around the corner of the path and back into the woods. "Hallo-o-o-o-o? Nope, nobody there Kanga, not even a woozle."

"I was hoping that it was Christopher Robin. I have been so worried about him since he left. I hope he comes back soon," Kanga said wistfully.

"I'm sure he will! And he'll come to Hogwart's with us too!" Tigger bounced with irrepressible optimism around the small house.

"Oh bother."

"What is it Pooh?"

"I got hunny in my Potions supplies … do you think they'll take off points for that?"

The peals of laughter floated on the gentle breeze, all the way to where Christopher Robin was picking his way carefully across the floody place toward where Eeyore had made his home in a rather sad and gloomy bog.

Getting close to Eeyore's little home Christopher Robin could hear hammering.

'_Eeyore's house must have fallen down again. Maybe I can help.' _Christopher Robin thought, brightening up at the thought of someone needing him. He hurried faster toward the sound, but came to a halt, when he got close and heard more than just Eeyore's voice.

"Ssssay there sssonny … that oughtta do it for now," Gopher said putting the hammer back in his toolbox just as another shingle fell off.

"Oh well, thanks for trying anyway Gopher. Doesn't really matter. Leavin' soon anyway."

"Oh that'ssss right ssssonny. You're leaving for Hogwartssss sssoon."

"Yep. Thanks again," the little gray donkey said looking back at his dilapidated hovel. "Probably be a pile of rubble by the time I get back."

"I could take care of that right now if you want. Sssseven maybe eight."

"Seven or eight what?"

"Sticks of dynamite sssonny. Bring her right down. What elssse?"

"No thanks Gopher. I'm sure it will do it on its own. As long as it doesn't do it while I'm sleeping, I guess it will be alright."

"Well, if you need anything elssse, you got my card."

"Yep, I got it."

"Ain't in the book you know."

"That's okay. I can't find mine anyhow. Lost it."

"Well there you go. Sssee you around." Gopher said falling into a tunnel.

"Thanks for coming by," said Eeyore gloomily from his door, watching as Gopher disappeared down a hole. "Hope that's the end of the interruptions for now. Got packing to do."

"Eeyore is getting ready to leave too, and doesn't want any more interruptions. And that would be me. Maybe I'll go visit Owl instead. He's smart. Maybe he can answer my Very Important Question."

Christopher Robin slogged tiredly back through the floody place towards the woods where Owl's house was in a large chestnut tree.

"Hello? Anybody there?" Eeyore called out poking his head back out the door and slowly looking around. "Nope? Just talking to yourself Eeyore. Silly donkey, nobody ever comes out here to visit. Too gloomy. Was hoping it was Christopher Robin though, if he doesn't show up soon I may have to go find him after all. I don't want to go into the dark abyss, but if I must I must."

Approaching the big chestnut tree Christopher Robin could hear the squawking of Owl and the buzzing of bees.

"Dash it all! Do be careful."

"Owl! What's wrong?"

"Greetings and felicitations Christopher Robin. Nothing is wrong, just bees being bees. What brings you to my abode?"

"Your what?"

"My house."

"Oh, I have a Very Important Question and was just wondering if I could get your advice."

"Why of course, of course! I have lots of advice, some of it quite fine, and most of it free for the asking." Owl said puffing up, pleased that his genius was being recognized. "Come in, sit down. Just don't get in the way of the bees."

Christopher Robin came in, sat down on a red stool, and watched with awe as the colony of hunny bees descended on a large book. Working together, they picked it up and flew it to a large leather bound trunk where they let it go with a 'thunk'.

"What are they doing Owl?" Christopher Robin whisper loudly.

"Packing."

"Packing?"

"Yes, for Hogwarts. You didn't think I was going to do it myself did you? Why I remember a time when my Uncle Robert was packing for a very long trip around the world and accidentally packed himself. Good thing he had the presence of mind to put a return label on the luggage so he eventually ended back up where he started."

"Uh-huh … so you're really going too?"

"Around the World?"

"No silly bird … to Hogwarts! Are you really leaving too?"

"Of course I am. Time to stretch my mind and let everyone glory in how smart I am."

"How are you going to do that?"

"Why by doing nothing at all. Just by looking at me, they should be able to tell I have brains, if they have any themselves. After all, I know all the right sort of stuff, and the right sort of people. I can help you there. Why I can even spell TUESDAY, which comes in very handy several days out of the week." Owl said preening his sleek feathers.

"Owl, how do you do nothing?"

"Well, when someone asks you what you are doing, you just say 'nothing."

"You just say 'nothing' and it makes it nothing?"

"Yes, nothing is the opposite of something, and something is a some thing or another, so if you call it a nothing than it is a no thing. Only something's have a name to be called. Nothings have no name, that's why they are nothings. So as long as you don't call it something, it's nothing."

'_Kind of like me'_ Christopher Robin thought with a pang of sadness. _'Except I have a name now, even if I don't like it, but I'm still a nothing.'_

"Owl, can a something be a nothing? Or a nothing be a something?"

"Oh no, it's against the law."

"It is?"

"Quite."

"So if something is a some thing, but it's a no thing at the same time, it's bad?"

"Very, it makes it all muddily in the middle. It needs to either be a something or a nothing."

"Which is better?"

"Well in my experience I find people tend to get more upset when you try to make something out of nothing than the other way around."

"So it's better a nothing stays a nothing than try to be a something?"

"Quite so my dear boy."

"So being nothing is better that being something?"

"In cases like this, inveritably. Much better." Owl said preening his feathers.

"Thanks Owl."

"You are quite welcome Christopher Robin, anytime I can help, anytime at all."

Christopher Robin looked back over his shoulder as he left Owl and the bees to their packing. Owl was smart, much smarter than he was. Owl knew know to read and write and could spell all sorts of big words, even if it took the whole pencil to do it. Owl probably even knew what ideas were, how you got them, and even better - how you got rid of them. Christopher Robin started walking down the path and thinking about what Owl had said.

"Christopher Robin? What was your Very Important Question?" Owl asked as an afterthought looking around only to find that Christopher Robin had already left. Going to the door, he could see Christopher Robin far down the path heading towards the river, just before a big crash brought his attention back to the bees.

"Oh dash it all! Do be careful there!"

Christopher Robin walked faster and faster, until he was running through the Hundred Acre Woods, stopping out of breath only when he reached the bridge where they liked to play poohsticks. He felt relieved that he finally knew what was the right thing to do, and knew that reading and writing and knowing what ideas were weren't that important any more if he wasn't going to go to Hogwarts. Leaning recklessly way out over the water, he slowly tore the letter into tiny bits and let them slip from his hand. The green ink glittering like emeralds as the fragments touched the water. He watched as the last little bit of parchment danced on the ripples of the river as it eddied and swirled beneath him and then swept away out of sight.

Owl was right. A nothing should stay a nothing and not try to be a something. It was only when he tried to be a something, when he struggled against what Master and Ma'am wanted, that he got hurt so badly. Master was right, it _was_ his all his fault. He was the reason Hedwig and Mercury got hurt. He hadn't been good enough. If he had been better, he would have been able to save them. If he were better, Master wouldn't be forced to do those things to him. He was bad. He deserved to be punished. He deserved to be hurt. Maybe if he did everything Master wanted and stayed a nothing, than Master would be happy with him and wouldn't have to hurt him anymore, and wouldn't have to keep giving him those lessons. Master would be less upset and angry – and less upset and angry meant less pain for him. Master would get what he wanted, a good slave, and he would get what he wanted, less pain. It was a win-win situation.

He was a nothing, and he should stay that way, it was better.

Resolutely Christopher Robin squared his shoulders and started back toward the dark abyss.

After admonishing the bees to be more careful, Owl had gone to the window in his lofty home in time to see his little friend leaving the woods and go towards the river. As he watched, it was as if Christopher Robin had made a great decision and his slow dragging feet perked up the father he went, until he was practically flying towards the bridge.

Owl knew that he was a great thinker, but sometimes to his regret, he knew he was an even greater talker. And sometimes his great talking got ahead of his great thinking. Right now, he was thinking back over his conversation with Christopher Robin and wondering what the Very Important Question was, and what he had said that would have made such a difference in his friend.

'_We were talking about something … or were we talking about nothing? … nothing or something … nothing is better… inveritably…'_

"Hm… I wonder if I should have said that?"


	26. Draco Wakes Up

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Still Thursday afternoon, August 1st, 1991

**Chapter 26 – Draco Wakes Up**

"Oh, Draaaacoooo … wake up!" Pansy Parkinson sang out sweetly as she dumped a bucket of ice-cold water on the sleeping boy.

"WHAT? Wha'd you do that for!" Draco Malfoy sputtered, sitting up in the lounge chair by the pond, his platinum blonde hair dripping.

"You were getting sunburned. I was saving you."

"Couldn't you have _saved _me in a little less _wet_ of a fashion?"

"Yes, but it wouldn't have been nearly as much fun," she giggled back.

"Hey Draco, what were you daydreaming about?" Blaise Zambini questioned, leaning up on his elbows in his own lounge chair.

"Daydreaming? Why do you think I was daydreaming?"

"You were talking in your sleep."

Draco Malfoy was having a summer 'soon-to-be-a-snake' swim party at the Malfoy Manor for his elite circle of friends, all of whom had all been accepted as first years to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and all of whom felt fairly certain they would soon be sorted into Slytherin House. The heat of the late afternoon had made Draco drowsy after swimming, and he had fallen asleep in the sun. He had been having some vaguely unsettling dreams about swarms of honeybees, packing for Hogwarts, and his imaginary friend Christopher Robin.

'_Gods! I haven't dreamt about Christopher Robin in years, well month. Okay weeks, well maybe it wasn't even as long ago as that, but really … I'm eleven now! I'm quite too old to be dreaming about imaginary friends. After all I am a Malfoy, and Malfoy's don't have imaginary friends.'_ Draco had never told his parents about it, or his godfather, or his friends. He had never told anybody. '_Oh gods! What if my housemates find out about it once I get to Hogwarts, I'll never live it down. Better put a stop to this right now.'_

"Whatever do you mean?" Draco asked innocently as he got up shaking the water out of his ears.

"You were mumbling things like 'oh dash it all'… I've never heard you use the word 'dash' in your life. It was really pretty funny Dray," Blaise laughed.

Draco didn't like being laughed at, EVER, for any reason. He narrowed his eyes at his friend as he put his hands on his hips and glared as only a Malfoy could glare.

"The name is _Draco_, not _Dray_."

"No offense … it was just a nickname."

"Malfoy's do not use … '_nick' _names," he chastised, changing the subject from his daydream as quickly as possible.

"Hey don't look at me like that … _Draco!_ I said I was sorry. Lighten up a bit will you? Geeze."

"Sorry Blaise. I guess I'm just a bit on edge with school starting soon. And my _unexpected _shower, just as I was starting to relax, didn't help any," he said adding a glare in Pansy's direction for emphasis.

"What's to be nervous about? You'll rule the school Draco," the girl flirted.

"Malfoy's are never … _nervous. _Nevertheless, I will admit that things will be a bit different than I am used to. It may take a day or two to get the lay of the land."

"How will it be different Draco? I mean as you are always saying … _you are a Malfoy_," Daphne Greengrass asked doing her best imitation of the Malfoy drawl and shaking her empty ice tea glass until a house elf popped up to refill it.

"True, the Malfoy name is quite respected, by all the_ right people_ anyway. It's just that there will be some half-bloods and mudbloods there as well. Why we have to mix with them I don't know. There should be a law against it. It would be much better if Hogwarts were exclusive to purebloods like Durmstrang. It's just wrong when nothings try to be somethings …"

Draco's conscience pricked uncomfortably when he said this. It reminded him of his daydream discussion with Christopher Robin, and he remembered now how he thought he shouldn't have said it then either. He didn't really have anything personal against half-bloods or even muggle-born witches and wizards. In fact, he hadn't even met one yet. He was just talking, saying the first thing that came to his head whether he meant it or not, he tended to do this when he was nervous and usually without thinking first. It was a bad habit he needed to break.

"Well I'm not going to worry about Hogwarts until I have to," Gregory Goyle said, "I'm not even going to pack until the night before. The thought of all that studying makes my head hurt."

"I'm not going to pack at all," Draco said casually.

"YOU'RE NOT!" Pansy cried in shock "DON'T TELL ME YOU'RE NOT GOING TO HOGWARTS! I'LL JUST DIE!"

"Oh calm down girl. Of course I'm going to Hogwarts. Malfoys' are all about the finest, and Hogwarts is the finest school of Witchcraft and Wizardry there is. At least if you believe all their pamphlets. Besides, it is in a far more agreeable a climate than Durmstrang, and I wouldn't be caught dead at Beauxbaton. Also my godfather is the Potions Master there, and he would kill me if I went somewhere else."

"Then why aren't you going to pack? I've been packed for a week already," Pansy sniffled.

"The house elves will take care of it for me," Draco said inspecting his nails before looking up surprised at the silence. "Well what did you think I meant? You didn't _honestly_ think I was going to do it _myself_ now did you?"

"Now that's the Draco we all know and love," Pansy and Daphne fawned.

"EEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEE!"

"Crabbe! Gods! What is it? You sound like one of the bloody peacocks!"

"A bee! A bee! Get it off me! Get it off!" Vincent Crabbe yelled out as he danced around arms flailing as he swung at the minute attacker.

"Ha! Got it!" With lightning quick reflexes, Draco deftly scooped up the tiny winged golden insect that had landed on Vincent's neck, as the boy ran by.

"Draco! I said get it OFF me, not HIT me!" Vincent Crabbe had jumped, when Draco's hand had moved so quickly towards him, and he landed with a big crash into a stack of unused chairs breaking half of them.

"Do be careful there Crabbe, it was just a bee. You're such a crybaby you'll probably be sorted into Hufflepuff," Draco said carefully letting his buzzing prisoner loose on a nearby flower.

"I am NOT a Hufflepuff!" Crabbe yelled.

"Well you're not smart enough for Ravenclaw, or clever enough for Slytherin, and you couldn't even get into Gryffindork with that display of bravery. You'll be in Hufflepuff for sure, right along with Neville Longbottom."

"TAKE IT BACK MALFOY!"

"Why should I? Am I wrong?" Draco smirked.

"Is everything alright boys?" Lucius Malfoy called out from the patio.

"Everything is fine father, just bees being bees, and Crabbe being a crab," Draco laughed as he pulled his friend to his feet and brushed him off.

"I think it's probably time for your friends to be heading home now Draco, dinner is almost ready."

"Well you heard him guys, better shove off now. Crabbe, I didn't mean it. You're Slytherin through and through. Okay? Still friends?"

"Okay Draco, still friends."

"Bye Draco. Thanks for the party. See you on the first!" His companions chorused as they gathered up their scattered belongings, and one by one, portkeyed home.

As Draco watched his friends leave, he wondered about how he would fit in at Hogwarts. He had always been the big fish in his little pond of close friends and now things were definitely going to be upside down. He would be a little fish in a big pond. As a first year, he would be on the bottom rung of the school hierarchy. Even with the legacy of the Malfoy fortune behind him the thought scared him, though he was loathe admitting to it. Malfoys' never admit to being scared.

"Draco, come join your mother and I on the patio," Lucius Malfoy called out to his son.

As his son took a seat on the shady stone patio Lucius Malfoy studied him carefull, then exchanged a meaningful glace with his wife Narcissa before he began to speak.

"Draco, we overheard some of what you kids were discussing and we think we should talk about a few things."

Draco could see the faint look of disappointment in his parents' eyes and he cringed inwardly. He really hated disappointing his parents.

"Sorry father, I guess I shouldn't have teased Crabbe like that."

"That's not what I am talking about son. I would have to say your assessment of young Vincent's qualifications was accurate. Never back down or apologize when you are right," Lucius said amused.

"What's wrong then?"

"For starters honey, I have instructed the house elves not to help you pack your trunk." Narcissa avoided looking her son in the eyes as she made this announcement. She knew it wouldn't go over well.

"What! Why?"

"Because at school you will have to do some of these things yourself, and you need to know how. You won't have your personal house elves there to do everything for you."

"But there are house elves at Hogwarts!" he pouted.

"Yes there are, but they are not there to cater to your every whim Draco. Yes they cook, do the laundry, and keep the castle clean but you will have to keep your own area neat, and you _will_ have to pack your own trunk."

"But mother …"

"No arguing."

"Yes mother. Is that it then?" Draco sulked.

"Not quite Draco. I also want to talk to you about the sorting. I just want you to be prepared if things don't go as you think they should."

"What do you mean mother?"

"You are extremely intelligent. You would do well in Ravenclaw."

"Ravenclaw? But our family has always been in Slytherin!"

"True, but I remember the sorting hat almost put me in Ravenclaw. You have inherited my love of learning so it is _possible _…"

"Let me just say this once son," Lucius said cutting in. "If you aren't placed in Slytherin don't bother coming home at Holiday."

"LUCIUS!" Narcissa gasped. "HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT!"

"Just kidding my dear … just kidding. Remember Draco, we will always love you and take you back even if you end up in … Gryffindor." He winked at Draco and mouthed the words _'Slytherin Rules',_ earning him a swift kick under the table from Narcissa.

"Yes father I'll remember," Draco smiled at his parent's antics. "Is that all?"

"Just one other thing. There is also the matter of your comment about half-bloods and mudbloods …" Lucius continued.

"But I've heard you say …" Draco cut in.

"Don't interrupt when I am speaking!" his father ordered in a stern firm voice, holding up a hand to silence his son.

"Sorry father," Draco said meekly.

"Son, do you understand why I am so against non pure-bloods, and muggles in particular?"

"Yes father."

"Tell me then."

"It's because they aren't as good as we are. They are always pretending to be better than they are, when all they really are is stupid oafs who don't deserve to live."

"Is that how you really think I feel?" Lucius frowned at Narcissa's raised eyebrows and her 'I told you so' expression.

"Isn't it?"

"Not exactly. However, I can certainly see how I may have given you that impression, as I have never hesitated to voice my views in front you. Nevertheless, I do regret instilling my prejudice in you at such a young age. I have my reasons for my hatred of muggles. Reasons I feel are very valid. Nevertheless, I must ask you to think carefully before you start voicing any rhetorical judgments. I would ask that you do so based solely on your own experiences, not on mine. That is a true mark of a superior leader, and I expect no less than that of you, after all, you are a Malfoy.

"May I ask you father … what are your reasons?"

"We purebloods are proud of our lineage, and justifiably so. The Malfoy and Black lines can be traced back over seven centuries. Before the world split into magical and non-magical worlds, we were a very prolific clan with great influence over wizards and muggles alike. Then the muggles grew jealous of our power. When they began persecuting witches and wizards in the sixteen hundreds, we lost a great many of our kinsmen - they nearly wiped out our entire line. Normal life spans for wizards can be up to two hundred years or more. Thanks to muggles, very few of our progenitors lived past eighty. All died at the hands of muggles, many by burning. When I turned of age, my father took me into his pensive and showed me the eyewitness memories of their deaths that had been handed down from father to son over the years. It was horrible. I cannot erase the sight from my mind. Now whenever I look at a muggle, all I see are the faces of those that tortured my family, and all I want is retribution. "

"May I see them too father? The memories?" Draco asked with a little dread and a lot of curiosity.

"Your mother disagrees with me on this, so it will be your choice. However, only when you turn of age. Then, if you want, I will show you the memories as is our tradition, and as is your right as a Malfoy to see them. However, this is not the time. This is the time for you to go out into the world with an open mind and make your own choices and your own judgments, not coloured by those of the past. This is your time to make friends and alliances that will last you a lifetime. Do not limit yourself by what you hear others say, even if they are your parents."

"So you don't have anything against half-bloods and mudbloods? Just muggles?"

"I wouldn't say that. However, unlike muggles, half-bloods and mudbloods do have their … _usefulness._"

"What do you mean father?"

"I have experienced in the political arena that it is best to keep your options open at all times, you never know when you may need one of them in your corner. Frankly, there are too many of them these days, what with unfortunate marriage choices such as the one your mother's sister made, to ignore them completely. You would do well to remember this."

"So it is alright to be friends with half-bloods _and_ mudbloods?"

"I didn't say that son. I only said that they have their usefulness. Never forget that in the end you are still a Malfoy."

"I don't think I understand."

"Mudbloods are nothings, they are there to be used if necessary, but that is the end of their usefulness to the wizarding world."

"They are nothings?"

"Yes, and they keep trying to overstep their place to become something in the wizarding world. It is quite disconcerting."

"So … nothings should never try to become somethings?"

"Absolutely, you should never try to make something out of nothing. It's a pointless waste of time."

Draco thought about what his father was saying. He recognized it as the same thing he had spouted mindlessly to Christopher Robin. It didn't feel right then, and it didn't feel right now. At least now, he knew how that idea got in his head to start with.

"Father … what about half-bloods? They aren't total mudblood nothings, but they aren't purebloods somethings either. May I be friends with them?"

"Half-bloods at least have a legitimate claim to magic, of course not as great as ours, but legitimate nonetheless. Your godfather is one. I consider him a close friend, and I doubt you love him any less because of it. In fact, if your tender-hearted mother had had her way ten years ago, you would have had a half-blood brother."

"WHAT!" Draco said clearly shocked.

"Get your mind out of the gutter boy. I am talking about Harry Potter. We applied to adopt him when he was orphaned as a baby but were turned down."

"You and mother were … _turned down? _But you're _Malfoys!_ How could that happen?"

"Some nasty rumours were circulating about our _possible_ Death Eater connections. The ministry did not feel they could justify placing the Boy-who-lived with anyone even remotely in doubt." Lucius shrugged. "Potter's loss."

"But Draco … that reminds me. Harry Potter should be starting Hogwarts this year too, he is just two months younger that yourself. The Potters were quite well off it. It would behoove you to make an effort to befriend him," Narcissa said placing a hand over that of her son giving it a reassuring squeeze. "From the rumours your father has heard at the Ministry, he was raised by muggles. Therefore, he might need some help to become acclimated to our world. Muggle manners are not the best so you may have to make the first move, offer him your hand in friendship."

"I will mother," Draco promised as he got up to go into the manor to get ready for dinner. As he closed the tall diamond-paned window doors behind him, he heard his mother admonishing his father.

"Lucius! You promised me you weren't going to voice any more of your narrow-minded intolerant bigoted ideas in front of our son!"

"I didn't Cissa."

"Well what do you call what you just said?"

"And what in particular did I say that you took offense to my dear? I only told the truth."

"The truth as you see it … _nothings shouldn't try to be somethings … _what was that all about?"

"And you think differently?"

"At least I don't say it openly."

"If looks could kill my sweet, you would be the queen of the Death Eaters."

Draco shook his head as he headed upstairs to change.

Talking with his parents had just confused him more.

It didn't make him feel any better.

Not at all.


	27. Vernon Dursley and the Very Bad Day

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Language and mention of extreme child abuse of a sexual nature. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Thursday noon through Thursday midnight, August 1st, 1991

**Chapter 27 – Vernon Dursley and the Very Bad Day**

Vernon Dursley had always prided himself at being in control of any situation. However, right now he was frustrated beyond belief, in every way it was possible to be, and he didn't like it one bit. True the day had an admittedly early and rocky start, but after he masterfully handled the 'unpleasant situation' caused by his defiant little slave, things had brightened up considerably. By the time that he had finally left for work that morning, he had been feeling his usual suave and debonair self. He was ready to take on the world.

From there the day started going horribly, horribly wrong.

As he backed out of the driveway a large white bird had swooped low over his shiny new BMW and had deposited a 'present' on his back windshield, startling him, which in turn caused him to hit a post and dent his bumper. Then after he ran over some debris (which he swore one of Mrs. Figg's ruddy cats dragged into the road in front of him on purpose), his tire slowly went flat. He then discovered his new expense mobile phone had no connection. Therefore, no Auto Club came to his rescue, and he had had to change the flat himself, pulled off to the side of the expressway. In the process, he got grease on his new custom-made suit.

"_This is all the freaks fault'_, he growled to himself. _'If he hadn't distracted me last night, I would have remembered to charge the damn phone._'

The parking lot was full when he pulled into Grunnings Drill Firm, forcing him to park in the dirt lot nearby. Slogging over the uneven surface, he got mud on the shoes he had made the freak polish to a high gloss just that morning.

'_It just isn't fair', _he whined passing by the automobiles of the firms executives on his way in. '_By now I should be running Grunnings, the corner office on the top floor should be mine, and the reserved parking space right in front of the doors should have 'Dursley' painted on it. But no, they don't appreciate what a gem of an employee they have. I used to be a General Manager with two assistants working under me, and now because of 'restructuring' all I have a dinky office.' _

Not only had they passed Vernon over for promotion several times, he had been slowly demoted all the way down to the basement level. There were no windows in the basement.

As soon as he entered the building, one of those young punk women - the sort he liked to ogle in nightclubs, bumped into him. The collision caused his hot coffee to be upset down the front of his stiffly starched white shirt. He had had to beat the freak and make him redo the shirt twice before he got it just the way he liked it - with extra starch so it could hold up to his perspiration and stay very crisp all day long. Now he had a large stain on the front, he was damp. The shirt ruined along with the last of his good mood.

'_Blast those freaky punks.' _Vernon muttered under his breath ignoring the young-punk-lady-in-question's profuse apology. _'Don't they know better than to get in my way? Don't they know they don't belong loitering about the lobby of a respectable business?'_

As he crossed the lobby, wringing what coffee he could from his tie, his 'superior' Mr. Sanderson pulled him into his office, where he proceeded to voice his displeasure at Vernon's late arrival. Sanderson told him that while he could appreciate Vernon's excuse of needing to deal with a family crisis, he had broken protocol by not calling to inform the office of his delay. This was just one more 'black mark' against his performance.

'_Ha! Imagine someone half my age telling me, Vernon Dursley, what to do, telling me to heal, as if I were no better than a dog on a leash. As if he could ever be my 'superior', _Vernon thought bitterly. _'He may have youth and nepotism on his side, but I have experience and talent on mine. But do I really care? If all works out with my side business of renting out the boy … maybe not. I may retire early and tell Sanderson where he can shove it for treating me like a common cur. Come to think of it, I have a leash in my toolbox that might be fun. Maybe I won't wait until the weekend to play with my little slave again.'_

Noticing a smirk appearing on Vernon's face, Mr. Sanderson decided his employee was not respecting his authority. To reinforce his position, he proceeded to give him a dressing down for his 'sub-par' sales performance for the prior quarter.

Vernon did not take the criticism well. And he became even more incensed when Sanderson then had the audacity to bring up that one little unsubstantiated complaint about his 'politically incorrect' behaviour, and told him that he would have to attend a mandatory 'diversity sensitivity' workshop for re-training. Was it his fault that Sanderson's leggy assistant didn't know how to take a compliment? Then Sanderson brought up his 'anger issues', and told him if he had one more complaint, that Vernon would also have to attend mandatory anger management therapy or forfeit his position. Early retirement was looking better and better.

To top it all off, since Vernon had foolishly bragged about the influential clients he was to entertain the previous evening, and the business he was sure it would bring in, Sanderson wanted to know how soon to expect the order. To back up his bravado, Vernon had actually authorized the first run of drills to start into production in anticipation of the large volume he was sure they would need in a hurry. Vernon had just finished explaining that he might have been a little hasty with the order, when Sanderson's assistant interrupted to announce that Vernon had two customers, and that had been waiting for him for over an hour and were getting impatient.

Now, not only did he look like he couldn't land new customers, he looked as if he couldn't take care of the ones he already had. He started wondering if he could put together a potential client list from some of his long time Grunnings contacts, ones that he knew well and suspected might have a leaning toward being 'entertained' by young boys. Maybe he could rent the boy during the day too, instead of just nights and weekends.

Huffing and puffing down the stairs, due to the fact the lift for 'non-executives' was under maintenance, Vernon racked his brain trying to remember who might have arrived for the appointment he had forgotten. The apology died on his lips as he entered his office to find Cornelius Fudge there dressed in his customary bottle-green suit, pointed purple boots, lime green bowler and pinstriped cloak. Vernon shuddered with revulsion. Couldn't the man even pretend to dress normally? Vernon shuddered a second time when he caught sight of Fudge's companion, a short squatty woman, with an unhealthy yellowish green pallor and sporting a clashing pink bow on the top of her head.

"Why Fudge … to what do I owe the honour of this visit? And who is your charming companion?" Vernon really hadn't expected to see him before his normal visit the first of each November.

"This is Dolores Jane Umbridge my Senior Undersecretary. Ms. Umbridge this is Vernon Dursley. Ms. Umbridge is here to take notes," Fudge completed the introductions. "And … ahem … it is _Minister_ now."

"Well congratulations … _Minister_. I missed the announcement in the paper. That's right. Your sort doesn't use the _normal_ media." Vernon jabbed with not just a little pang of jealousy as he sat down behind his desk and addressed his two guests. "Now why are you here? Surely not just to let me know you finally won the election."

"I think you know exactly why we are here Dursley. The contract for 'the project' we have been working on for the last nine and a half years."

"Ah yes, the contract, I decided to go ahead with that on my own. I should have guessed it would act just as freaky as everything else does in your world. Why, is there a problem with it?"

"You could say that. I believe you may have mistakenly appropriated it when you visited my office."

"Are you insinuating that I _stole _it? Stealing implies I had no right to take it, but it was quite clearly in a file with my name on it. I had every right."

Fudge narrowed his eyes and stared the muggle down until Vernon started squirming in his seat.

"Be that as it may Dursley, it was not intended for muggle use."

"Be _that_ as it may Minister, I don't care _what_ you intended. I was the one that put close to ten years of work in on the boy, not you. I intend to make the most of it."

"May I ask just how do you intend to do that?"

"I have a few ideas … actually most of them thanks to you."

"Such as?"

"It took a bit of doing, but I read that contract. Your sort really should look into using typewriters. However, be that as it may, I know what you had planned for him, and don't try to tell me you didn't. I just decided to train the little freak on that aspect of his duties myself."

"You did, did you," Fudge narrowed his eyes. This was NOT what he wanted to hear.

"Yes I did. I thought to myself, Vernon - you've done all the hard work up till now, why shouldn't you get the fun part too? Then I thought that I could make a nice little nest egg renting him to more of your sort who enjoys that type of activity. Thought since this is a normal thing in your world, there were probably a lot more of you out there, maybe those Death Eaters you've mentioned. They sound like a likely pool of customers. I've already told the boy to expect a few paying clients come the first so he can start working off his debt. Since you never seem to want to get your hands dirty, you can just send them my way. You won't have to trouble yourself about it at all. Of course any proceeds would be mine exclusively."

Fudge frowned at this. Merlin! How he hated to deal with Muggles, stupid insipid fools the lot of them.

"Just what have you done to train him in these new duties so far?" Fudge inquired, with just the right balance between interest and apathy, to ensure he did not tip his hand. It would serve him no good if Dursley caught on to the fact the boy was worth millions. He had to handle the situation very carefully. He just hoped the bastard hadn't completed all three of the bindings so that he could still modify the contract. The contract didn't detail out the collar's role in the binding, or the number of times necessary to complete it, just the need for the master to take the salve by force to empower it. If Dursley read the contract carefully, and Fudge could only surmise the man had, than he only knew enough to be dangerous to his plans but not enough completely destroy them unless it was just a fluke.

"I did exactly what the contract said needed to be done. I … excuse me Ms. Umbridge if I seem indelicate here … I 'initiated' him last night and then listed his belongings on the contract and made him sign it. Then I put it in that freaky box it came in, along with the ledger to serve as the invoice to prove he owed me a debt, and it disappeared. Do you know when I can expect the £2,500 pounds? I … ahem … have a few bills to take care of."

'_Blasted Muggle! The debt was not a monetary one alone. The 'debt' was a life debt, one without price, his soul, his magic, along with the entire untold wealth of his worldly goods. Leave it to a muggle to place no value on anything besides what he sees in front of him.'_ Fudge fumed, the disgust quite clearly written on his face.

"You were going to do it anyway, what did it hurt that I did it a little sooner?" Vernon said quickly, mistaking Fudge's look of disgust for him personally, for disapproval of what he had done instead.

"Was the box 'disappearing' the only … as you put it … 'freaky' thing that happened?" Fudge asked dismissing Vernon's justification without comment.

"Well now that you mention it, that silver collar thing did go a might freaky too."

"How so?" Fudge prodded.

"It got hot when I tried to choke him, but that was it."

"So the collar only 'went kind of freaky' once."

"No … twice, it happened again this morning, after I gave the boy a follow up lesson, if you know what I mean."

"Oh I know exactly what you mean," Fudge said with barely disguised anger. Since Dursley had only stumbled on the contract and collar combination twice, if he played his cards right he still had one last chance at the gold in the Potter vaults. However, he had to tread carefully. Dursley had already completed two thirds of the bond, so the contract would now be viewing him as the master. To get the boy from Dursley now, Dursley had to sell him willingly. Fudge could not force him to sell or the contract would not acknowledge him as the new rightful owner.

"As to as your £2,500 pounds, these things do take a while, and you say you have a few bills to take care of? Do you really wish to settle for such a paltry sum? I know it is what we had originally agreed upon, but since you went to all this _extra_ trouble for me, perhaps I could make it a little more worth your while if you were to sell him to me as agreed. Of course, 'used' I would expect a discount."

'_Aha! Now we are talking,' _Vernon gloated. _'I knew I was right to go ahead with it, now I've got him negotiating.'_

"Just what do you have in mind Fudge? I was counting on a steady income off the boy. Been thinking recently of retiring early - maybe to Majorca."

"Perhaps we could add a zero, say £25,000 pounds?"

"Plus commissions," Vernon said firmly.

"Commissions?"

"Yes I want a percentage of anything you make off from him."

"By 'make off from him' what do you mean … _exactly …_? If you would be so kind to be specific, I would be ever so grateful. If we are to renegotiate the price I want to make sure there are absolutely no misunderstandings," Fudge said diplomatically.

"I want sixty percent of any money you make off from renting the boy out as entertainment to your friends, that's what I want," Vernon demanded greedily. "And don't tell me that wasn't your intent all along. After all, it takes one to know one. What else would you want with that pathetic worthless freak?"

"As you say … it takes one to know one. Very well Dursley, you drive a hard bargain, £25,000 pounds and sixty percent of any proceeds, any time we 'rent him out' as you so colourfully put it. Shall we go to your home and make the exchange now?"

"Now hold on there Fudge, I want it in writing. Not that I don't trust your kind of people, but I do have to protect my interests."

"Agreed. Ms. Umbridge, will you please draw up the papers and have them delivered to Mr. Dursley as soon as possible so we can complete the deal."

"Of course Minister, I will prepare them myself and have them delivered later today. Will that be satisfactory?"

"Fine by me," Vernon replied.

"I concur, as long as you cease your 'lessons' immediately," Fudge was adamant. "If I am to pay the exorbitant sum you shrewdly bargained me out of, I want to have the 'fun', as you call it, myself."

"I knew you were one of us," Vernon said apprising the man with satisfaction. "Of course, I'll need a day or so to go over the papers with the wife, and then the little woman is having a 'to-do' of sorts this weekend. I can't have your sort just dropping in until after that. Why don't we exchange on Sunday?"

"Very well. Just remember what I said about cease and desist. I want him 'as-is' with no further 'training' on your part," Fudge said threateningly, getting up to leave.

"Quite right," Vernon agreed, all the while thinking that what Fudge didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

"I mean it Dursley. There will be serious ramifications if you don't comply," Fudge was wary about how easily Dursley had agreed to stop. From his experience, predilections of this nature were not so easily squelched. "I have dementors at my disposal and I won't hesitate to use them."

"Dementors?"

"They are the guards at Azkaban. On my command they will give you the kiss."

"The kiss?"

"That is how they suck out your soul and leave your body to rot in a pool of your own filth. Quite a painful experience I hear. Think about that before you consider backing out of our deal again." With the threat hanging between them, Fudge made an impressive exit, Dolores Umbridge bobbing along in his wake.

'_Suck out my soul? What poppycock! Don't believe in all that mumbo-jumbo. Not a very good threat there Fudge. He should have come up with something more believable. Hm … that's odd.'_ Vernon thought watching as the duo stepped into the broken elevator and the doors swept shut, the floor indicator hand moving downwards. _'We're already on the basement level.'_

"Cornelius, you can't use a dementor on a muggle! The Wizengamot would never allow it."

"They will when I tell them he violated their precious Boy-who-lived."

"But won't they find out about us too? Dursley will be sure to talk."

"Not after I obliviate him of all the memories of us, and only leave behind those of Dumbledore."

"Oh … that's very clever of you! But what about after the exchange, if Dursley finds out about the gold won't he try blackmail?"

"He won't after the dementors are finished with him."

"So you're going to have them give him the kiss anyway?"

"Of course I am. It's just a matter of when. I would prefer to get the boy as my slave first and have all that lovely gold at my disposal. However, one way or the other Dursley will pay for all the trouble he's causing me."

"Do you think that it's safe to wait until Sunday? What if Dursley … he wouldn't … again … would he? It would be the third time … and then the gold … the werewolf!"

"If you were threatened by the dementors kiss - would you?"

"Never," Dolores shuddered at the idea.

"Thought not," Fudge smirked. Satisfied he finally had things on track, the two apparated out of the elevator and back to the Ministry of Magic.

It had been one long horrible day, and Vernon for the life of him could not think of what he had done to deserve such treatment from the fates. After Fudge and Umbridge had exited his office, trailing threats behind them like breadcrumbs, Sanderson called him up to his office again to give him a report on his meeting with 'his clients'. Since he couldn't very well tell him that they were wizards, and he couldn't pretend they were any of his actual clients, for it was too easy to check and found a falsehood, he did the only thing he could think of - he told him that they were old school chums visiting from out of town. This did not please Sanderson in the least.

'_Wasting company time? Is that what he said? Docking me a half day's pay for coming in late and wasting company time on personal visits! Then forcing me to be 'nice' to all those unqualified job applicants he wanted me to interview as part of my 'sensitivity' training. Bah! 'Be nice' he says, as if I'm not always nice. Now that was a waste of company time, not a viable applicant in the batch and that last one, the worst of them all! I think she was the same one that spilled coffee on me. This whole blasted day was that little freaks fault.' _

All Vernon wanted was to go home and gain back his sense of power and control, and he knew just how to do that, he didn't care what Fudge had said. Vernon left Grunnings and headed for the dirt lot and his car, only to find the BMW hoisted up on a tackle attached to a large tow truck, with the logo 'Rapid Repo' splashed in garish letters across the back.

"THEIF! THAT'S MY CAR!" Vernon shouted as the truck pulled out of the lot.

"'t'ain't anymore gov'," the cheeky driver called out the window as the truck picked up speed, the back wheels spinning, and spattering Vernon head to toe in muck.

Vernon stood in the street yelling every obscenity he could think of at the rapidly disappearing truck, when a car from the executive lot slowed to a stop next to him. The dark tinted window silently rolled down, revealing the slightly amused face of Mr. Sanderson.

"Having a problem Dursley?" he addressed his red-faced employee.

"No … no, nothing of the kind. Just forgot I asked the garage to pick up the car. Had a slight dent in the bumper that needed fixing," Vernon fumed, silently berating the freak in his head for making him forget to post the car payment. He would make him pay for that too.

"Very well, have a nice evening then." The window silently rolled back and as Sanderson drove away, it almost looked like the car was laughing at him the way it jiggled slightly over the speed bumps.

"I intend to," muttered Vernon as he walked back to Grunnings to call a cab.

'_God it feels good to get home, finally someplace I have control and the respect I deserve. I think I'll just work out some of my 'anger issues' as Sanderson calls it on the little freak. After all the trouble he caused me today - he deserves what he gets. Besides, it will relax me. What can Fudge really do about it anyway? He has no authority in the normal world … and dementors! Bah! It's just a lot of bogeyman hooey, if you ask me. As if I would fall for that line of bull. There is no such thing as a soul-sucking demon, unless you are talking about the one I married. No, a nice long lesson in the playroom is just the ticket. How would Fudge know anyway? I've already done it twice, a couple of times more before I turn him over won't make any difference. Why deny myself?' _

Vernon licked his lips at the pictures in his mind as he heaved himself out of the backseat of the cab and headed for the house, where, as a final indignity to the day, he stepped in a large pile of bird droppings on the front step and slipped, falling forcefully on his bum.

"PETUNIA!" he roared as the front door flew open at the sound of the crash.

"Vernon! Oh dear! What happened? Are you hurt?" It was Marge, his sister, greeting him at the door instead of Petunia as he expected.

"Marge? Is that you? Help me in, I think I hurt my back." Vernon whined limping inside and sitting heavily in an overstuffed chair in the living room and sighing. "Oh that's better."

"You really should have a stern talking to with your groundskeeper. Why, you could have been seriously injured! You aren't still employing that same one you had last time I was here, are you? I've always thought his work was totally unsatisfactory. Why just look at those hydrangeas out front! Half the flower heads are broken and brown. Disgraceful! Right from the start, I told you to fire him. You should have listened to me. He's never done a good job, probably from bad stock, which is why he's reduced to working with his hands instead of in a respectable office career like you Vernon. Those types will take advantage of your good nature if you let them. You have to make sure they don't shirk their responsibilities. Treat them with a firm unyielding hand. I have always believed in strict discipline. It is just too bad it is unlawful to cane employees. We would have a more focused workforce in Britain if we employed the cane. Of course, we are forced to rely on that kind of people I suppose, so if we must we must. However, get a well-bred one if you can. I breed dogs, and have experience with these types of things. It's one of the basic rules for all type of working class animals. I've always said if there is something wrong with the bit … _RIPPER! _Quit growling at the staircase and get in here!"

"Marge? Marge?" Vernon cut in when she finally took a breath. "I am delighted to see you my dear sister. But I didn't know we were expecting you, are you here for dinner?"

'_Damn! This will put a damper on the entertainment I had planned for this evening. Maybe she is just here for dinner and I can get rid of her.'_

"I am sure you must have rats in your walls Vernon. Every time we come to visit, Ripper goes crazy scratching and growling. He usually doesn't do that. He is usually so well behaved. Aren't you Rippy-poo?" she cooed cuddling the drooling dog.

"Don't worry about Ripper. I'll have Dudley put him out back. So you were saying about dinner?"

"Oh no, I didn't just come for dinner. I'll be here at least until Sunday. Petunia called this morning and said she desperately needed my help with the Garden Fete on Saturday, and I can understand why after looking at the state of your garden. Shameful! Utterly shameful! However, I am sure under my command she will take the top prize again this year. Won't you Petunia?" Marge inquired of her sister-in-law who was entering the room with a tea tray. Dudley, who had already eaten half the canapés on the serving platter he was carrying, followed Petunia.

"Oh hello Vernon, I didn't hear you come in. I ordered Chinese delivery for dinner tonight. I hope that is alright with everyone. I just didn't feel like … _cookery_," Petunia said smoothly with a sidewise glance at her husband's beet red face. "Diddims put Ripper out in the back garden would you?"

"Marge was just telling me that you invited her for the _entire_ weekend. How _nice_ and how … _unexpected …_ my pet. Not that I don't welcome her company, however, we usually discuss that sort of thing first. I suppose you didn't remember that I had a few … ahem … _other plans…_ that will need to be put off now."

"Oh dear! Am I interrupting something?" Marge boomed. "I was certain that Petunia said to stay as long as I could, in fact I thought that the rest of the month would be nice. Of course I couldn't stay that long with my kennels to run, but I can stay at least until Sunday morning."

"Nonsense Marge! You are not interrupting anything, after all I was the one to call you wasn't I? Certainly, Vernon can postpone his plans for a few days, at least until after I win the garden competition. I do have a reputation to defend," Petunia smiled sweetly at her fuming husband and poured him a cup of tea.

"One lump or two dearest?"

'Four," he seethed.

"Here you go _sweetums_," Petunia simpered handing over the heavily sugared drink. "Oh, and the papers you were expecting arrived. I put them upstairs in your safe."

"Thank you my _dearest_," Vernon replied with equally thinly disguised animosity.

His wife and sister's inane prattle over gardening increasingly frustrated Vernon throughout dinner and drinks. He wanted to play with his little slave, but he couldn't with his sister Marge here. She did not know about the freak, as they had always had to keep him hidden away whenever she came to visit. Fudge's directions were that no one must ever see him, or the Dursley's would forfeit any monetary investment they had made to date in 'the project'. That would mean that he would lose his personal slave to boot. He was too close to closing the deal with a guaranteed steady income, to lose it over a technicality. However, the more he thought about what he wanted to do with the freak, the harder he got and the more he needed release. He had too much pent up anger from the horrible day he had suffered and he wanted his relief - he _needed_ it. Only everything was conspiring to ensure he didn't get it. If he didn't know better, he would almost think that Petunia had invited Marge here on purpose, just to vex him.

It was close to midnight before Marge finally took her sleeping pills and went upstairs to bed. As soon Vernon heard her snores resounding through the walls, he headed for the cupboard under the stairs, just to have Petunia put a hand on his arm as he started to unlock the padlock.

"Vernon, you can't! Not with Marge here."

"But … Pet …" he wheedled "… I need …"

"No Vernon, I don't care what _you_ need. Right now, it is all about _me_. And I need the little freak in shape to finish the garden," she said tapping her foot impatiently as Vernon hesitated. "Well? You don't think _I'm_ going to weed do you?"

"Surely I have time for a little …"

"You told me you were done with him till the weekend, and he was mine to work till then. Then you go off and take the key with you." Petunia savagely poked a long manicured finger sharply into his chest with each word. "How was I supposed to get anything done around the house with him locked up all day? I had to buy crisps and sodas at the market for Dudley and his friends for lunch and delivery for dinner. It's your own fault I had to call Marge to come over. You left me with no help. Now put him to work in the garden. It's all ready midnight, there are only five or six hours left before dawn. In addition, he'll still have to clean up the kitchen, finish the laundry, and prepare breakfast before Marge gets up in the morning."

"Sorry Pet. How thoughtless of me," Vernon apologized still hopeful of getting his way. "Still I wouldn't take long to …"

"You can't Vernon. Not with Marge here. You know that," she hissed. "And you better give him some water tonight. It's been three days. I won't have him passing out and unable to work because of dehydration. There is too much to get done before the Fete."

"Yes Pet," he grumbled. Nothing today had gone right, and the night wasn't shaping up any better. Yanking open the door of the little cupboard in frustration, he reached in and grabbed hold of the mop of black hair, hauling the trembling boy out to his feet. As he did so, the raggedy blanket and tattered storybook fell with a clatter to the ground.

"I'll take that Boy. They're mine now." Vernon gloated snatching up the filthy items and tossing them aside.

"And I'll be taking those glasses too. You won't need them if you don't have a book," he said grabbing them off his face and snapping them in two before adding them to the discard pile and taking up the chain which hung from a hook on the back of the door.

Boy stood there in shock while Vernon snapped the chain onto his collar. He had always been so careful to hide the blanket and book under the loose board in the corner where Master couldn't reach, and now they were gone. Why had he been so careless to get caught with them? They were all he had. Now he had nothing. Master had everything. Master had his friends.

"I decided not to let you shirk your work until the weekend," Vernon said scornfully, taking back at least a little of the control he had lost throughout the day. "Did you hear your list of chores?"

"Yes master," Boy replied softly coming slowly out of his shock as grief replaced it. He thought he should be relieved it was just chores he had to do, but right now, he didn't care.

"Well?"

"Weeding, kitchen, laundry, and breakfast Master," he recited in a dull monotone.

"And it had all better be done to my satisfaction this time, or no food tomorrow. Do you hear me Boy?"

"Yes Master," Boy acknowledged while he hoped that Master had not forgotten that Ma'am mentioned water. He was so thirsty he was dizzy, and knew he didn't have a prayer of finishing even one of the chores without it, but it was against the rules to beg for anything. If Master wanted him to have water, Master would give it to him.

Vernon pulled Boy out the backdoor shoved him to the ground on his knees while he secured the chain once more to the stake in the centre of the garden. Then he pulled Boy's face close to his and threatened in a low whisper, "Petunia wants this garden in tip-top shape before morning. So get to it you little freak. And remember … you're not be seen, and not a sound out of you."

Boy nodded silently, picking up the weeder that Master had dropped nearby in his good hand, and started to crawl on his hands and knees to the flowerbed where he had left off weeding the night before.

'_Master forgot the water … no Master would not forget. Master does not think I deserve it. Master knows best, so I must not deserve it. I'll get through this. I'll be good. I don't really need it, and I don't need friends either. Master is right. Master is always right."_ He repeated the often-heard words to himself.

Boy froze in place as he suddenly felt Master looming over him again.

"Make it last. That's all you're getting," Vernon sneered, dropping a bottle of water next to him on the grass.

"Thank you Master," Boy murmured gratefully, then gasped in pain as Vernon kicked him unexpectedly in the ribs.

"What part of NOT A SOUND did you not understand Boy?" Vernon fumed.

Boy didn't know what to do, if he answered he would be going against Master's order not to make a sound and if he didn't answer he would be breaking the rule of always promptly answering Master's direct questions. It was a trap! No matter what he did, Master would punish him. As he hesitated, a sudden flurry of movement caught his eye as a ball of white streaked from the top of the hollow ash tree.

"WHAT THE …" Vernon started to yell, his attention diverted from further torturing the boy, to the feathered projectile headed directly for him. He ran for the backdoor. He had barely made it inside when he heard a thump slam against the door at his back, causing the glass in the windows all around the house to rattle. "… HELL! Blasted birds! That does it. I'm putting out poison first thing in the morning."

After calming himself down with the last piece of triple layer cake, left over from the dinner the night before, Vernon went upstairs for a hot shower and a little recreation with Petunia. If she wouldn't let him get satisfaction where he wanted to, she had damn well better provide it herself. Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped a large fluffy towel around his middle, slipped on his carpet slippers, and headed for the bedroom.

"What was that racket Vernon?" Petunia sat up in bed and questioned the minute the door closed.

"It was another one of those bloody birds. I'm putting out poisoned bait in the morning. That will take care of the problem."

"Just one bird?"

"Yes, just one. Why?"

"Vernon!" Petunia screeched whacking him with a pillow. "You do hardly anything when an _entire_ flock attacks me, but now you _'take care of the problem'_ when one lousy little bird does the same to you?"

"I wouldn't call shooting one of them this morning 'hardly anything'," Vernon retorted coolly.

"When you blame it on me it is!"

"Pet, do be reasonable, what would you have had me say to the constables? '_Yes officers, we seem to be being plagued by owls from the wizarding world. What's that officer? Why yes I did say wizards.'_ They would have locked us both up in the loony bin and you know it. It's just not normal."

"Still …"

"Forget about it. I have had a long miserable day and now I need a little sugar to help me relax," Vernon sat down next to her on the bed and ran a hand up her bare thigh.

"If you need something sweet there is a piece of cake left in the icebox," Petunia said purposely misunderstanding him.

"I already ate it, I meant the other kind of sugar …" he leered at her.

"Not tonight Vernon, it's that time of the month."

"I thought that was over," he whined.

"It was … last month. It's back again," Petunia firmly turned a cold shoulder on him and deftly flicked off the light, leaving Vernon to sputter and fume in the dark.

'_I should have made that a cold shower,'_ he thought as he punched down his pillows. Through the wall, he could hear Marge snoring. Vernon pulled the covers up over his head.

'_Bloody hell, I should never have gotten out of bed this morning.'_


	28. Stealth and Tracking Practice

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Thursday afternoon August 1st, 1992 through early morning hours Friday August 2nd, 1991

**Chapter 28 – Stealth and Tracking Practice on Privet Drive**

"Now let's see … Date? Well that is easy …"

_Yes I do, just what did you have in mind?_

"Um … Name: Last, First, middle, maiden? Alrighty let's see … last name first that would be …"

_Tonks, Nymphadora, Andromeda, yes I am at the present - thank you for asking._

"Oh no! I'm undercover can't use my own name!"

_(erase erase erase)_

"Okay how about …"

_Lestrange, Bellatrix, Druella, no I'm married but willing to look at options._

"What's next? Oh … hm … Present address? That's a strange question but okay they must have a good employee benefit package if they send presents …"

_Please deliver all presents to my London flat. _

"How Long? How long what? Hm … they don't say … well let see … I'll just put down …"

_54 meters._

"That should do it. Not too long, not too short. And it should be long enough for whatever they want."

"Social?"

_Yes, I love a good party._

"Telephone? Um …"

_No thanks, I have one already._

"Must be one of the presents they give employees, but Dad already installed one in my flat so he could call me. I don't need two - hardly use the one."

"Training? Training what I wonder … probably me … well I have enough training go on with the Auror program … hm … I'll just put…"

_No thank you._

"Experience? Another cryptic question. My mother taught me that a lady never discloses, but I don't want them to think I don't have any at all since they're so social and all … so okay then how about if I just put …"

_Enough._

"Highest Education?"

_Newt levels. _

"No, that's not right. They asked for 'highest' and considering their other questions were a bit on the odd side …"

_(erase erase) 100 meters over the Quidditch Pitch._

"Ha! That was fun … it was during a lightning storm with Charlie Weasley … that was one education I'll never forget."Tonks smiled, remembering fondly.

"Have you ever been convicted of a crime? Um … well quite a few of my pranks could have been considered a crime but I've never been _caught _… so that would be …"

_Definitely not._

'_Well that's done, now what do I do to make myself blend in?' _

Tonks swung her legs and started to hum as she perched on a metal folding chair in the lobby of Grunnings Drill Firm. The other applicants were still busily filling out their forms.

'_I wonder what the toothache and the toad are doing here anyway. It seems a very peculiar place for our esteemed Minister to visit. I didn't think he mixed with muggles all that much, and why bring the toad along? I wonder if it has anything to do with that file. Let's see it had the name 'Dursley' written on it … I wonder …'_

Spying a posted list of employee offices next to the elevators, Tonks went over and ran a finger down it until she had to bend down to read to the very bottom of the list. That was where she finally found 'Dursley, Vernon – Office No. 2' listed on the basement level.

"AHA!" she shouted triumphantly, straightening up just in time for her head to come in contact with the bottom of a coffee cup carried by a large beefy man with a red face. The coffee spilled down the front of his starched white shirt and made a puddle on the floor.

"I am so sorry Sir! Here let me help you." Tonks started to withdraw her wand to cast a cleaning spell, and then remembering she was in a muggle area, she quickly shoved it back up her arm holster and started trying to brush off the spilled liquid with her hand instead. All she managed to do was smear it further.

"Leave it be! You've done enough damage!" the man sputtered obviously irritated.

Tonks saw that she was just upsetting him further with her apologies, so she quietly slipped back into the group of job applicants, as a young looking executive led the sputtering man away to an office.

'_Hm …_ _he was a most unpleasant sort of bloke, and that other man called him Vernon Dursley … must be who toothache came to see. Guess I'll hang around awhile and see what develops. After all, I am an Auror and we like to know things. Besides, Kingsley Shacklebolt did say I needed more stealth and tracking practice. I didn't do that well on that part of the Auror's entrance exam. 'A little klutzy but with real promise' I think is how he put it. Certainly need to practice then. After all, if I don't want to be one of those low calibre employees I need to do a thorough job. The Minister might need protecting if that man gets any more unpleasant. Wouldn't do to leave him here in the muggle world without backup, wouldn't do at all. In fact I'm surprised he didn't request guards to escort him … hm … come to think of that's odd too … wonder why he didn't, he usually does …'_

Tonks kept a watchful eye on the comings and goings at Grunnings Drill Firm the rest of the day, as one by one the receptionist led the job applicants away for interviews. Other than seeing Vernon Dursley cross the lobby to the executive's office once more and then return even more beet red and angry to head down the stairs towards the basement level, she didn't see Fudge or Umbridge at all.

'_Strange, that they would be here this long. I wonder what's going on."_

"Lestrange, Bellatrix?"

'_That's odd … why would someone be calling out Aunt Bella's name here of all places?" _

Tonks look around startled, and then noticed she was the only one left in the lobby and the receptionist was waiting for her.

'_Oh righto! … I used her name on the application.'_

"Yes! Here! That's me! I'm …" Tonks' foot tangled in the legs of the metal chair as she hopped up causing the entire row of them to collapse. "Oops! … Bellatrix."

"Please go to office Number two on Basement Level. Mr. Dursley has been assigned the interviews today and will see you now."

Tonks went down the stairs next to the elevator and found the small dingy office of Vernon Dursley at the end of the basement hallway.

'_He might still be upset about the coffee, best disguise myself first.'_

Tonks glanced around and seeing no one in the hall, she used her metamorphmagus abilities to change her appearance. In the blink of an eye, her short pink hair turned into waves of ebony half way down her back, and her dark twinkling eyes to a brilliant blue. _'That's better, matches the name now …' _and she pushed open the door to the office where Mr. Dursley was waiting for her.

"Ahem … Ms. Lestrange. Please, take a seat."

"Oh please, call me Trixie."

"Very well … ahem … _Ms. Lestrange …_ after reviewing your very unusual application I can see that you are … how shall I put this … not Grunnings material." Vernon Dursley looked at the girl in the Weird Sisters T-shirt suspiciously. She looked like the young punk who had run into him earlier and spilled coffee all over him, but that girl had short shocking pink hair, and this one had long black hair. He shook his head and looked again. Nah … couldn't possibly be the same one.

"I'm not?"

"No definitely not."

"Well that's a relief. I already have a job."

"WHAT? Why are you wasting my time then?" Tonks noticed a vein starting to bulge in the man's neck.

"Oh sorry, didn't mean to. See I was just browsing about and wandered in here, and wondered what all the people were doing in the lobby. So I joined them." She shrugged. "It looked like it might be … fun."

Vernon stared at the young woman in disbelief. "FUN! We at Grunnings are anything but _FUN_."

"Ooo … I've noticed that you aren't. However, it's all quite misleading don't you think? It's almost verging on false advertising. After all you promise presents and seem to be keen on employee dating …"

"OUT!" Vernon all but threw the miss out of his office and slammed the door behind her before he lost his temper even more than usual. It was all a trick of Sanderson's he knew it, just trying to bait him. It had been a long horrible day and he just thank god that was the last applicant he had to deal with as part of his diversity sensitivity 'retraining'.

"_Retraining my foot. More like punishment,"_ he stormed under his breath as he left the building, only to find his car being towed away. Quite unaware the whole time that he was being followed.

"Nice break for me. I seem to have lost the toothache and the toad. They've probably apparated back to the Ministry already. Well as long as I'm here, I think I'll just ride along with Mr. Dursley and see where it takes me. There has to be some reason why those two came to see him, and I can't help but think that it wasn't a good one."

Tonks cast a disillusionment charm and quickly slipped into the backseat of the cab just before Vernon did. Sliding over to the far corner, she pulled in her elbows to make herself very small so not to be discovered. Tonks studied the man she was trailing carefully. He was a very large man but on closer inspection, it was muscle, not fat that added to his size. As Tonks watched him, she could tell he was thinking something that seemed to be angering him more, and then the most purely evil look appeared on his face.

'_I'm glad I am not at the other end of whatever he's thinking of, reminds me of a Death Eater.' _she reflected as they pulled up to a square brick house in Little Whinging. _'Must be his home, not what I would have pictured, but I guess it fits him - very square and very unimaginative. It's even hard to tell the difference between his house and all the others on the street. They all look identical … what's that muggle song my Dad used to sing? Oh yeah…. '… and they're all made out of ticky-tacky and they all look just the same'… _

Tonks stifled a laugh as she watched Mr. Dursley slip and fall on the step. For some reason, she thought he seemed to deserve it. When the door opened an equally massive woman, who looked almost to be his twin, rushed out to help him into the house. As Tonks started to follow the pair into the house, she received a nasty jolt at the front gate that sent her flying backwards into the street and flat onto her back.

"WHOA! What happened there!"

Tonks got up and approached more carefully this time. Tentatively reaching out one fingertip, she touched the invisible wards and received the same shock as before only not as strong. Casting a spell to make the barrier temporarily visible she saw the wards surrounding the property were pulsating with intense radiant energy.

"Those are some wards! Wonder what they are doing here in the middle of a muggle neighbourhood? Must be protecting something pretty valuable to be this strong … wonder what it is? It can't be that nasty man. Who would want to protect him? Beside he looks like he can protect himself just fine. At least I wouldn't want to run into him in a dark alley without my wand and a little backup. Must be something else … hm … I wonder … I think I'll just scout around a bit …"

Tonks ducked into the neighbouring garden of Number 2 Privet Drive and walked down the perimeter of the fence line adjoining Mr. Dursley's property, checking the wards every few feet. When she reached the end of the lot she scaled the fence, dropped into the backyard of the house behind Number 4, and repeated the process until she once again shinnied over the fence this time in the yard on the far side of the Dursleys. Completing the circuit, she arrived at the front of the house and noticed a 'For Sale or Let' sign posted in the front window. Looking around at the weeds and dry grass she made a swift decision and returning to the back of the house she cast an 'Alohomora' spell on the kitchen door and let herself in.

"This will make a good home base. It just needs a few things to make it a bit more comfy." With a wave of her hand, she transformed a packing box into an easy chair, a tarp into a plush pillow, and made herself at home in an upstairs window overlooking the backyard of Number 4.

"Shoulda' picked up a pizza," Tonks thought as she opened the window to get a nice breeze. With a toss of her head, she changed her locks back to her preferred hot pink and her eyes back to their deep brown and settled in to wait.

Dozing from boredom in the early evening heat, Tonks was startled into wakefulness by a dog barking in the yard next door. Wide-awake now she leaned out the window to see a fat black and white bulldog growling at the base of a tall Ash tree. Looking up, just about even with her window, she saw a large snowy white owl peeking out of a hollow in the tree, glaring down at the pugnacious pooch. Taking careful aim, the owl dropped from its beak what looked like a small rock. It fell, hitting its intended mark with admirable accuracy. Howling with fear, the dog scampered back to the porch and whined to be let in.

"Ha ha! Good one!" Tonks chortled at the sight of the self-satisfied look on the expressive owl's face. "Wonder whose owl that is, I don't recognize it … hey Snowy! Fly over her girl."

Hedwig turned her head and fixed a stare at the pink haired witch. Then she turned her head back and promptly proceeded to ignore her, in favour of continuing to stand watch for her owlet.

"Well I like that … snubbed by an owl … okay Snowy since you obviously have other priorities, how about I keep you company?" Tonks asked swinging her legs out the window to balance on the sill.

'_Hoooottt' _Hedwig agreed. As long as the witch didn't bother her, she didn't mind the company. It had been a long day after Mercury left and she had started to lose hope that help was coming. However, this witch just might do if she didn't fall out of the window. At least she was from the magical world, which was something.

Tonks and Hedwig watched the yard in companionable silence until about midnight. Well, Hedwig was silent except for the occasional 'Hoot' to admonish Tonks, whenever she started to try and lure her from her perch with promises of head rubs and feather petting. Hedwig staunchly refused to abandon her post for any reason. She knew her owlet would come back, and when he did he would need her help. The spirit of the garden had told her he came almost every night during the summer. She would wait. He would come.

'_**Hoooottt! … Hoooottt! …'**_

Hedwig ruffled her feathers alerting the sleepy Tonks as the backdoor finally opened, expelling Vernon Dursley into the darkness of the yard. Silhouetted in the open kitchen door, with the glare of the light behind him, it was difficult to make out any details. He looked like an indistinct lumbering dark hulk, but he was pulling something out the door behind him on a long leash that looked to be some sort of animal. Could it be the bulldog from earlier? No, that dog had been mostly white, with a little black. This dog was all black.

Tonks could only catch a fragment of what Dursley was saying to the animal but it sounded like _'… not be seen … not a sound …' _She shrugged, he was probably trying to make sure it's barking didn't wake the neighbours. Tonks would have dismissed the scene, given up, and gone home, however the snowy owl was becoming increasingly distressed at the scene. Tonks leaned farther out the window trying to get a better look. When she did, she slipped from the sill and tumbled into the flowerbed below.

"Merlin! That hurt. I hope I didn't sprain my foot." Tonks swore ruefully, rubbing the offending appendage as she hobbled over to the fence separating the two properties. "Gods! Stupid fence! I can't see in from down here. Where … oof …"

Tonks backed into the trunk of a tree growing close to the fence line. Looking above her, she got a brilliant idea.

"What I wouldn't give for my broom right about now. Oh well, here goes nothing …"

Grabbing a low branch Tonks swung up into the tree and started to climb. Soon she was even with the branch of the neighbouring tree next door on which Hedwig was perched, and got there just in time to see the large snowy white bird take off with a vengeance. The owl dived into the yard below headed straight for Dursley, who she could now see was kicking the dog, which was cowering at the end of a long chain secured to a stake in the centre of the garden. The perpetually angry man was yelling louder this time for the dog to be quiet and not to make a sound.

"Serves Dursley right," Tonks thought as she watched the owl chase him back inside the house. "That poor little dog wasn't barking at all. There was no cause for him to be so mean."

From her perch in the neighbouring tree, Tonks watched with curiosity as Hedwig flew back and landed on the grass near the black dog, which was now moving again as far away from the house as the chain allowed it to go. The snowy owl seemed to be very protective of the animal and what was odder yet was the animal seemed to be hugging the owl. Can dogs hug?

"I gotta get closer and get a better look," Tonks muttered to herself. "But how?"

Climbing down from her perch, she went slowly along the fence, feeling all the boards until she found one with a small knothole a few feet above the ground. Kneeling down, she put her eye to the hole and watched as the owl took flight, leaving the dog alone in the yard, only to return a few minutes later with fresh kill in her talons.

The moon had been full only a week ago so it was still a fairly bright night, but Tonks was not accustom to peering into the nighttime shadows, and could not be certain of what she was witnessing. Nevertheless, it looked a lot like the owl was feeding the dog. Tonks had never seen an owl so caring towards a dog before. So she blinked hard and looked again to make sure of what she was seeing. No, she was right. The snowy owl was definitely feeding the dog.

After the pair was done with the meal, the black dog made its way over to the flowerbed farthest from where Tonks was watching, with the white owl hopping along behind. The dog seemed to be digging in the beds and the owl was helping it. Even though digging holes is normal behaviour for a dog, this dog didn't seem to be doing it normally. Instead of digging one hole with abandon, as deep as it could, this dog's holes seemed to be more like weeding, small holes that dislodged dandelions and creeping morning glories. Moreover, the dog was methodical working its way down the length of the bed towards the house, not something a normal dog would do.

'_I wish I could see. Maybe a little light would help." _Tonks set off a 'lumos' spell and created a small ball of light which she tossed toward the other yard, only to have it bounce off the wards, and shatter into a small fireworks display.

'_Well, that didn't work. I guess I'll just have to wait for nature to help out with the light situation. In a few hours, it will be dawn. Then maybe I can get a better look."_

Tonks watched for hours, and the longer she watched the owl and the dog, the more uncertain she was that it was a dog. She almost thought … no it couldn't be … a small boy?

'_But that doesn't make any sense at all, it must be a dog. But dogs don't hug … at least I don't think they do. And they don't eat with their paws … at least not that I know of. And I don't think most dogs could dig holes without destroying a garden, and this one seems to be making the beds better, not worse. Could this be what the wards are protecting? Some sort of hybrid dog? It is against the law of Magical Creatures to create new breeds, but maybe Fudge has been doing some crossbreeding on the side and had enlisted this muggle to hide it? Gods! I wish I had had a chance to read what was in that file more closely. I barely got a glance at it before Umbridge took it, but it seemed like some sort of contract that talked all about training. Maybe Dursley is training the hybrid dog for Fudge for some sort of intelligent watchdog? Well, if he is, he isn't doing too good a job of it the way he is treating it. It won't make a very good watchdog - a butterfly would frighten it! Probably ought to tell Shacklebolt. He was interested in that file, and there is definitely something odd here. But I need to get a closer look first if I don't want to get laughed out of the office.'_

The dog finally seemed to have finished whatever it had been doing on the far side of the yard, and moved back to the centre of the garden where it huddled close to the white owl. Tonk's took the opportunity to try and coax it over to the fence.

"Hey boy … come here boy … come on … come here … over by the fence … boy come on … I won't hurt you … come here boy …"

Boy froze.

'_Oh please no! Not that! Please I can't be seen! Master will punish me if I'm seen. He'll let them take me to prison. I have to hide!'_

Before Tonks could even blink, the dog disappeared out of sight, and a very angry owl was perched on the fence directly above her glaring down for all it was worth.

"Um … sorry? Didn't mean to interrupt Snowy. I just wanted to help." Tonks looked up at the bird apologetically. "I thought I could be its friend too? Will you let me? Huh … Snowy? How 'bout it? Will you tell the little dog to come back out from where ever it's hiding? I promise I won't hurt it. Really I won't."

For a few minutes Hedwig looked as if she was considering taking a large nip out of Tonks, then seeming to relent, she flew back into the yard and settled on the lawn near a large forsythia bush. As she landed, something flashed silver in the grass in the fading moonlight.

"Aha! The chain." Tonks eyes travelled across the grass and saw where the chain disappeared into the bush that was rustling ever so slightly. "So that's where you are hiding!"

The small rustling of the bush ceased when she said that, and an eerie quiet descended between them. Tonks could see that the snowy owl was once again perturbed with her.

'_Um … okay bad move on my part. Obviously it doesn't want to be seen. Oh, that's right - Dursley threatened it and told it that no one was supposed to see it. And here I was trying to get it to do that very thing. So what do I do now? Oh well … in for a penny … in for a pound!'_

"Hey boy, please come out. I'm sorry I frightened you … its okay … I can't see you … you didn't do anything wrong …"

The forsythia bush was shaped somewhat like a fountain, all the long branches rising from the centre core a good two and a half metres into the air only to fall in a weeping cascade back down to the ground, leaving a round doughnut shaped void concealed around the base. It was here that boy had taken refuge, and now he sat huddled under the camouflage of the trailing branches. Slowly he stopped shaking and started listening to the voice from the other side of the fence.

'_How does it know who I am? It's calling me Boy. Does it know Master and Ma'am? It must. Otherwise, how would it know about me? But I still can't be seen … not by anyone except for Master, Ma'am and Cousin … and it doesn't sound like any of them. It kind of sounds like Ma'am or one of Ma'am's friends or maybe Master's sister, Miss … but not really … this voice sounds … friendly? It can't be real - nothing is friendly to me. It must be a test. Master is testing me to make sure I follow the rules. But what rule do I follow? The voice keeps telling me to go over to the fence, and I have to do what any of my betters tell me to do, that's one of Master's rules. And everyone is better than I am since I am a slave. No one is lower than me ….but then I would be breaking his rule not to be seen … and that is one rule I really don't want to break, it hurts too much when I do.' _

Boy didn't know what to do, and at his hesitation to follow the rules to the letter, the silver slave collar started to tighten to remind him that he had no choice but to follow the orders given, or be punished. Since he was currently hidden, the rule he must be breaking must be the one about following a direct order. He reluctantly decided he had no choice but to leave his sanctuary.

Tonks saw the bush rustle again so she renewed her efforts to coax the animal out.

"That right boy … come on out now … just a little bit more … it's okay … I know you aren't supposed to be seen. I heard Dursley tell you that. It's okay … I can't see you … really I can't … you can't see me can you? If you can't see me, then it stands to reason I can't see you either."

Boy thought about that. It did make sense. If he couldn't see the owner of the voice, how could the voice see him? Relieved that he wouldn't have to break either of the rules he could feel the collar going back to normal as he crawled closer to the fence as the voice had ordered.

"Hi there boy … wait a minute now … you _**are **_a _**boy **_aren't you? A _**real **_boy?"

Tonks was floored speechless when she finally got a good look through the knothole at the dog she had been trying to coax into the open. It wasn't a dog at all! It was a small boy with messy black hair, dressed in large baggy tattered black clothing. She couldn't get a good look at his face because he refused to look up, but what she could see was dirty and tear-streaked. What was that bastard Dursley doing treating a little boy as if he was no better than an animal? No strike that, he would even treat an animal better than he had this boy! After all, that cantankerous black and white bulldog from earlier was obviously sleeping inside where it was cosy, and it certainly had been running around loose and not chained up. Tonks was incensed at the boy's treatment and had to bite back a number of colourful profanities so as not to frighten the little boy into hiding again. Besides, the large snowy owl was still on guard duty, perched protectively on the fence above her to make sure she didn't.

Boy froze again and stared fixated on the ground in front of him … oh no! The voice asked him a direct question. He had to answer, but he couldn't without breaking the not a sound rule. It just wasn't fair. He was really trying to be a good slave but how could he be if they kept giving him conflicting orders? Slowly Boy just nodded his head 'yes' in answer to the question and was relieved when the response seemed to be adequate enough not to activate the collar to choke him again. He really did like breathing, and wanted to continue to do so. He just hoped he would be lucky and the voice would go away soon and leave him in peace.

Boy should have known he wouldn't be lucky. He never was. The voice didn't go away.

"It's okay … really it is … everything will be okay," Tonks said in her most soothing voice. "I just want to be your friend. It's okay … come on a little closer …"

'_Please go away… please go away… please go away…' _Boy chanted in his head even as little by little he moved closer to the voice on the other side of the fence as ordered.

Even though the voice sounded so warm and friendly that he longed for it to keep talking and not leave him alone, he knew Master or Ma'am would be out soon to fetch him inside to do his other chores. Although they must have sent the voice, he still felt as if he would be in trouble if they caught him anywhere near it. Besides, he didn't want any more friends. He hadn't been able to protect the ones he had. Mercury was probably dead because of him, and his friends from the woods now belonged to Master. He didn't want anyone else to get hurt because of him.

"That's it … that's good …" Tonks assured the little boy as he came closer. If she could have reached through the wards, she would have been able to gather him up in her arms. However, the closer he got, the more worried she became. He was very small - too small. And very thin - too thin. In addition, he looked hurt the way he was holding his body.

'_How could anybody do this to a child_?' she wondered. _'He can't be more than seven or eight …"_

"Hi there little one … can you tell me your name?" Tonks questioned gently only to receive a timid negative shake of his head.

'_Oi that was brilliant Tonks! If he is that afraid of being seen when told not to be, he certainly isn't going to talk to you when he was also told not to make a sound. Then again, I don't even know if he can talk. He might be a mute. Okay this is all up to you then …'_

"This is some attack owl you have here little one … do you mind if I call you that? No objection? Okay little one, how about I tell you all about myself, and then when you feel like it, you can tell me all about you? Okay? No?"

Tonks sighed. She was right - it was going to be all up to her. The boy was staying silent.

"Well that's okay … I'll still tell you all about me. I like to talk. In fact, I have been told that sometimes I don't know when to shut up. Let see … what to tell you? Well, my name is Nymphadora Andromeda Tonks but I hate my first name, and nobody calls me by my middle name, so just call me Tonks, okay?"

Tonks paused and when she didn't receive a response, she kept going.

"My Dad calls me Dora, but no one else, and don't you dare call me 'Nympho'. I got enough of that when I was in Hufflepuff, and well … I'm eighteen and just left school. Now I am in Auror … well technically an Apprentice Auror in Training, because I don't have my license yet. However, I was still accepted, so that means I'm an Auror. Do you know what an Auror is?"

Another pause greeted with complete silence.

"No? Well let me tell you it's just about the best job in the whole wide world! Adventure, danger, excitement, and the pays not half bad either. Right now, I am training. Yep, training … working on my stealth and tracking skills right here on Privet Drive. Nearly failed that part of the entrance exam. I am much better at disguise and concealment, got top marks in that category. Didn't even have to study! Can't beat out a metamorphmagus in disguise and concealment … do you know what that is? No? Well let me tell you …"

'_I'm going to get that poor little kid to trust me if it's the last thing I do,'_ Tonks vowed as she launched into a lively description of all the type of changes she could do to her looks, all the while checking through the knothole from time to time to make sure her audience was still listening. It was steadily growing lighter and Tonks' voice was steadily growing hoarser, but she was determined to keep talking and draw the young boy out. She talked about everything she could think of. She talked about her family. She talked about her co-workers. She talked about Quidditch. She talked about flying. She talked about her favourite music group, the Weird Sisters.

She talked, and she talked, and she talked.

Finally, her voice gave out and she heaved a small sigh. How was she going to get the boy to trust her, when she couldn't get in to touch him or look into his eyes? How was she going to help him, when she couldn't get through the wards? What was she going to do?

Tonks pulled out of her trance when she heard the Dursley's backdoor swing open just before dawn. She recognized the unmistakable bulk of Vernon Dursley, and surmised the tall horse faced woman accompanying him was his wife. Finally, someone with some reason about her, she thought relieved. The wife must be coming out to rescue her new little friend from her brute of a husband.

"Get over here you little freak," Petunia hissed at the boy who scurried to obey even as Tonks watched with horror though the knothole. The woman wasn't here to help rescue the boy at all, she was as bad as Vernon Dursley! Tonks was about to shout out in protest, when she noticed that Vernon Dursley was holding a very lethal looking shotgun. At the sight, Hedwig squawked and flew off the fence toward the boy.

"Go on Pet - fetch the boy in. I will protect you from those flying vermin." Vernon cocked the gun meaningfully.

To shield the beautiful bird from the threat, the little boy threw himself in front of the snowy owl as she glided to a landing on the lawn. Simultaneously, the woman reached down and unlocked the chain from the stake, and jerked him away. Seeing she was outnumbered, the snowy owl reluctantly few back to the safety of the hollow in the Ash tree. She did not want to leave her owlet, but she would do him no good dead. It was better to retreat for now as the balance of power was with the large fat man and the stick like woman. She wouldn't win, even with the doubtful assistance of the pink haired witch, who didn't even know how to perch properly without falling.

"At least you finished the flower beds in the back. It's about time. The Fete is tomorrow so you only have tonight to finish the entire front. The hydrangeas are disgraceful," the woman admonished as she yanked the boy towards the backdoor.

"Wait one moment my sweet." Tonks heard Vernon Dursley call out.

"What is it now? I need to get the freak busy on his household chores. Marge will be up soon, and I am NOT cooking. She eats almost as much as Dudley does."

"It's just a minor thing really, a matter of disposing of a few … ahem … contaminated items. I want the little freak to see what happens when he tried to get ideas."

Tonks could see Dursley toss a small bundle of cloth on the ground and hold a match to the material. Within seconds, a small tendril of smoke was raising from the bundle followed quickly by the glow of orange flames. The boy struggled against the chain to reach the pile and came within millimetres of putting his hands in the fire.

"NOOOOOO!" Boy screamed as he watched his friends going up in flames.

At the cry, Vernon backhanded the boy knocking him to the ground.

"I said … Not. A. Sound. That does it. No food for you today. Now get in the kitchen and get to work."

As the kitchen door slammed shut, hiding the appalling tableau from view, there was a flurry of feathers as Hedwig streaked for the small bonfire on the ground below. Beating out the flames with her wings, she dragged the smouldering items across the dewy grass with her beak to smother out the last of the danger to her owlet's precious things.

'_Hoooottt' _Hedwig only wished she could have saved her owlet from the large fat human as easily_. 'Too bad that witch wasn't able to help.'_

Tonks sat back on her heals in shock. Well, she had found out one thing - the little boy could speak. However, her Auror training hadn't covered situations like this.

"Merlin help me! What do I do now?"


	29. Where there's Smoke

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Friday early morning hours, August 2nd, 1991

**Chapter 29 – Where there's Smoke**

"That just isn't fair." Dudley thought, watching from his upstairs toy-room window as his father set the blanket and book he had taken from the freak alight. He had been woken early by his Aunt's snoring. Unable to get back to sleep had come into the room to look for the new hand held computer game he had gotten for his birthday. He wanted it to play during breakfast so he wouldn't have to talk with Aunt Marge.

He loved his Aunt, but all she did was talk to him as if he were a baby - all 'nephey-poo' this and 'nephey-poo' that. He got enough baby talk from his mother on a daily basis and he really didn't need any more of it, any more than he needed more toys. He had more toys than he could possibly ever use. Half of them he hadn't even bothered to unwrap all the way. Once he had the wrapping off enough to see what it was he would just toss it aside.

Every birthday and Christmas, his parents gave him more presents than the year before, which truth be told he didn't _exactly _mind, but he did mind that they never gave his cousin any at all. Knowing that his cousin never got a single present somehow made him unable to enjoy his own gifts as much. In frustration, he would break them almost immediately, so as to even the playing field. If his cousin didn't have any toys, why should he? However, it didn't work. His parents would just rush out and get him two replacements for each broken toy, and on the next occasion buy him even more.

He shook his head at the total inequity of the situation. Here he was with a second room just to hold his wall-to-wall toys, while his cousin the freak only had a small dark hole under the stairs. To top it off, the only things the freak had to call his own, his dad was destroying. Looking down into the garden, he was glad to see when a large white owl rescued his cousin's pitiful possessions.

'_Maybe I can do something too_.'

He started to plan as he tiptoed past the guest room, snuck down the stairs, and out the front door, closing it quietly behind him. Dudley never claimed to be all that brilliant, no matter what his mother bragged. However, he thought he was rather good at occasionally being sneaky when he put his mind to it, and being sneaky was the only way he had ever found to help his cousin.

While, for the most part, his parents catered to his every whim. However, when it came to how they treated his cousin that topic had always been off limits to him, unless it was when they encouraged him to help beat the freak up. He had learned if he was going to do anything to help his cousin, he had to do it in secret. Even then, he had to be very careful about how much he did, because if discovered, his parents would blow up and blame his cousin. And that never turned out well.

Going round the side of the house to the back garden, he glanced around to make sure he wasn't seen. Then he cautiously approached the owl guarding his cousin's things. He heard his father say that everything the freak had, belonged to him now, and that he could do with them what he wanted. However, apparently what he wanted to do with them was to throw them away. According to one of the universal laws of the school playground anything someone lost or threw away, was fair game to be claimed by the first person who found them, who did want them. And Dudley wanted them. He wanted them so he could give them back.

"Hello birdie …" Warily Dudley got down on all fours so he was on eye-level with the large bird and gulped a bit in trepidation before asking, "Is it okay with you if I take these back to my cousin?"

Hedwig cocked her head to the right and hooted while she looked the blond boy up and down. Then she cocked her head to the left, hooted again, and locked eyes with him. Outwardly, he looked like a small version of the large fat man who hurt her owlet, but there was a difference. She could see the magic in this boy even if it was very faint, and she knew he was a wizard, just as her little owlet was. She didn't see any evil in him and he didn't seem to be harbouring any ill intentions towards her owlet. Moreover, he _was_ inside the yard, unlike that pink haired witch that couldn't seem to find her way in. Besides, Mercury had yet to show up with reinforcements, Hedwig thought with passing dissatisfaction. Grudgingly, she decided that faint help was better than no help at all, and reluctantly backed away from her owlet's things and let the fat boy approach.

Dudley picked up the singed blanket and slightly charred storybook off the ground, and tucked them in the waistband of his pyjamas and covered them with the top to conceal them. After a whispered 'thanks' to the owl, he crept back around the house and inside the front door, being careful to avoid his parents.

'_Good! They're still in the kitchen.'_ He thought as he could hear his mother shrieking something about how the freak had better not burn the bacon, and his father telling his cousin what he would do to him if he did.

He didn't understand why they always yelled about the same thing every morning. His cousin hadn't burned the bacon since he was five, and everything he cooked was always done to perfection. He could take the cheap cuts of meat his mother bought, and make a gourmet melt-in-your-mouth meal out of it. Nevertheless, it didn't seem to matter how good the meal was, his parents would always find something wrong with it. He personally thought the freak was a great chef, and made such downright addictive killer biscuits, that he gave full credit to them as the reason he had so many friends at school - especially at lunchtime. He didn't know if he would have been nearly as popular without the biscuits to share. He knew he sure didn't get there on his brains, looks, or personality.

'_Hey - more good luck! Dad left the door unlocked.' _

Gleefully Dudley opened the door of the little cupboard under the stairs and tucked the bundle safely inside. As he thrust it into a dark corner, his hand brushed an odd little pile. Dudley hadn't actually ever been in the cupboard before, and was curious as to what his cousin kept there, since other than the dust and a few spiders it was quite bare. Pulling out the little pile into the light Dudley was dumbfounded to find it was the birthday gifts he had been leaving … every one of them was there - from the broken pencil, to the bent coat hanger. His cousin had saved them all, each and every one, even the used tissue. Dudley was touched, and he thoughtfully put the little pile of junk back where he had found it.

As he started to close the door, he saw the disgusting filth bucket, and the empty water pitcher. After a slight hesitation took them across the hall to the bathroom, emptied and rinsed the bucket, and filled the pitcher to the brim with clean water from the tap. Then he returned them both to their spots, along with a half-eaten apple from his pyjama pocket that he'd been saving for a snack. On top of the blanket, he laid the pair of glasses that he had found in the trash the night before. He had mended them with tape in the hope of finding a way to get them back to his cousin. Content that he'd done all he could for now - he carefully shut the door.

'_What's fair is fair. He cleans up enough after me so it's about time I returned the favour. And now everything is back where it belongs,' _he thought with satisfaction. Dudley slipped into the living room just in time to avoid his farther shoving his cousin down the hall. The freak disappeared into the cupboard, which his father padlocked closed just as Aunt Marge started lumbering down the stairs to breakfast, carrying the whining bulldog Ripper in her arms.

Inside the little cupboard, Boy could hear Miss Marge's heavy footsteps on the stairs, and felt the dust rain down on him with every step she took.

"I can't wait to get at some of that excellent nosh of yours Petunia! The smell has my mouth watering. I have quite an appetite this morning." Boy heard Miss announce loudly. "Then we can get started on the back garden first thing. Of course, this morning I really don't see anything to do out there …"

As Miss joined the rest of the family in the kitchen for breakfast, her voice faded as the door swung closed behind her. Boy breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad she was here, even if it meant countless long hours in the dark stifling cupboard with nothing to eat and no water to drink. At least when she was here Master wasn't giving him any lessons, and Ma'am wasn't yelling at him - at least not as loud. All in all, his life was much better when Miss was visiting. All he had to do was be quiet and pretend he didn't exist. That he could do. He'd had lots of practice.

Boy hugged his knees to his chest and thought about Hedwig, and the friendly voice from the other side of the fence. He had been overjoyed to see Hedwig. He had been afraid she had been hurt or worse - killed. However, he still didn't know what had happened to Mercury, and was worried about the stately owl. All he had found were a few of his bloody feathers on the ground and feared the worst for his other friend. He wondered if the friendly voice… 'Tonks' it had said to call it … knew anything about Mercury's fate. She seemed to know a lot of things, a lot more than he did. He wished that he could have asked her. He wished he could have asked her a lot of things.

If allowed to ask questions, he was sure she would have answered them, probably even without hitting him first. She seemed to like to talk. Boy had been mesmerized by her, he had never heard anyone talk that much before, and then _never_ to him. The most anyone ever talked to him was to tell him to do a chore, or to yell at him for not doing one right, or to tell him how bad and horrible he was. However, Tonks didn't order him to do any chores, and she didn't yell at him. She was a lot like his friends from the Hundred Acre Wood, she just seemed happy just to keep him company.

Boy felt a deep ache in his heart as he thought about his friends from the Woods. He had lost his friends. Master had taken them away and had set the Woods on fire. He hadn't been able to save them, or even warn them. It was his fault they were dead. It was his fault Master had killed them because he wasn't a good enough slave. If he had been just a little bit better, maybe Master wouldn't have taken them. But he was bad. He had gotten them killed, just as he had killed his parents, just as it was his fault Mercury was probably dead, just like everything was always his fault.

Exhausted and depressed, Boy lay down on the hard wooden planks to try and sleep while he could. It was already starting to get hot in the cupboard and it was also peculiarly smoky smelling. The odour just reminded him anew of the friends he had lost to the fire, driving the hurt even deeper into his heart. As he curled into a ball, his foot unexpectedly hit a bundle. Feeling carefully around his tiny space he felt something familiar, something he thought was gone forever. His blanket, a little worse for the wear and slightly singed, but it was definitely his blanket.

Could it really be?

'_My … my blanket? It was gone … I saw Master light it on fire … so how? It couldn't have been … ma-magic … magic isn't real … Master said so … but the box … was the box was magic? If it was - maybe there is magic … but the box was bad … so if magic is real it must be bad … and something bad wouldn't bring my blanket back … and Master wouldn't have. He tried to burn it. Could it have been Ma'am? No, ma'am wouldn't have saved it either. Ma'am doesn't like me any more than Master does. Then who? Miss? No, Miss doesn't even know I exist. Cousin? It … it had to have been. Cousin must have brought them back to me, he's the only one who has ever given me anything nice … and … and he brought me back my glasses too? _

Boy was dazed as he unfolded the mended metal frames and pushed them onto his nose. Then as he pulled the blanket into a hug there was a small plop, and his precious storybook fell out of the folds. Boy picked it up with trembling hands. A breath he hadn't realized he was holding escaped as he sobbed with relief.

Carefully opening the charred cover in the dim light from the crack under the door, he was relieved to find only a little scorching around the edges of the pages. Miraculously, most of the pictures had escaped the flames. Boy scrunched the sooty blanket under his head for a pillow and curled up cradling the book in his arms.

A gentle blue glow covered him like a soft warm quilt as he drifted off to sleep with a small smile on his tear-streaked face.

He hadn't dared to hope …

but here they were …

in his hands …

his friends …

safe.


	30. Burning Bridges

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Still Friday early morning hours, August 2nd, 1991

**Chapter 30 – Burning Bridges**

"Pooh? Tigger? Owl? Where is everyone? Oh please! Where are you?"

Christopher Robin ran out of the dark Abyss and through the woods searching for his friends. Everywhere he looked was evidence of the recent fire, and thick acrid smoke hung heavy in the normally crystal clear air.

"Please? You have to be here! You have to be all right! Rabbit? Kanga? Roo?"

Reaching the wooden bridge over the river where they like to play poohsticks, Christopher Robin stopped, out of breath, and sunk to the ground in despair. The previously solid wooden bridge was now just a few burned sticks suspended together precariously over the rippling water. The woods were eerily silent, even the bees were not buzzing.

"No! They have to be here somewhere! They just have to!" Christopher Robin sobbed in worry.

Just then, Gopher popped up out of a hole, and after spying the damaged bridge pulled his tool box up behind him.

"Hm … looksss a little crisssspy … but it'sss nothing I can't fix."

Gopher marched over to the bridge and gave it a sound kick. Whereupon the charred sticks promptly crumbled and tumbled into the swirling eddies far below.

"Except for maybe that."

"Gopher!" Christopher Robin cried with relief at seeing one of his friends.

Gopher spun around looking for Christopher Robin and finally spotted him sitting on the ground by the river sniffling he called out cheerily, "Hey there sssssonny!" Then after a pause added, "What'sssss the matter?"

"Gopher! You're okay!" Christopher Robin said wiping away the tears with the back of his hand.

"Courssse I am, sssssonny. Why wouldn't I be?"

"The fire … everything burned … I thought …"

"Pisssh-posssh, nothing to worry about sssonny, jussst sssome fool left a campfire unattended in the woodsss. It happensss."

"It … it wasn't a campfire …"

"No?"

"No. It … it was my fault …"

"How could it be your fault? You don't go around lighting firesss. Leassst not that I know of," Gopher put down his toolbox and looked at Christopher Robin speculatively.

"I was … bad. And Mast- um … that is _Sir _… started the fire to punish me," Christopher Robin answered sadly after he quickly decided to use Masters old name 'Sir' once more. The inhabitants of the Hundred Acre Wood now knew that he was a freak, but they didn't know what he really was -a slave, or what Master had made him into now, or what Master had made him do. And defiantly, he didn't want to tell them. They may have let his freakishness go by, but he wasn't sure any of them would still want to be his friend if they knew what he really was. Master had said no one would ever love him if they knew, and he couldn't take that chance. He couldn't lose them just when he had found them again.

"What could you possssibly have done ssssonny, that would make that him try to burn down the entire woodssss?"

"I'm not sure. But it must have been something …"

"Sssseems a trifle on the overkill sssside to me. Esssspecially for sssssomething that might have been nothing."

"It couldn't have just been nothing. I must have done something wrong."

"If you're not ssssure, how could it have been ssssomething?"

"Because I am always being bad."

"Ssssays who?"

"Sir and Ma'am," was the soft reply.

Gopher put his hands on his hips and tapped his foot in irritation. He had always viewed Christopher Robin more like a son who needed guidance, that just a friend who needed sympathy. And as a parent, sometimes you just had to be tough and teach them a lesson. He had to say something that would get though to him, something he would pay attention to. And knowing how much Christopher Robin always tried to please …

"Ssssonny, I am asssshamed of you!"

"I'm … I'm sorry Gopher … I'm so sorry to disappoint you too!" Christopher Robin swallowed hard, sure that Gopher had guessed his horrible secret.

"No! It'sss not that. You have never dissssappointed me! I am just asssshamed of you for sssstill believing anything thossse two tell you. How many timesss to I have to tell you not too, before you finally sssstop?"

"I don't know if I _can_ stop Gopher. They tell me that I'm bad so often … it's hard not to believe them." Christopher Robin shrugged.

"What have I told you to do when that happensss?"

"Tell myself something good."

"And are you?"

"I … try, but it's very hard."

"Why isss it hard?"

"Because there isn't very much good about me to tell."

"That jussst isn't true! There are lotsss of good thingsss about you Chrissstopher Robin! You are clever, and you are sssmart, you are brave, you are kind, and you are a good friend, just to name five," Gopher said counting off. "I could name more but I am out of fingersss."

"But what good does it do Gopher?"

"It'sss a basic rule of building, and I know all about building thingsss. For every force you need an equal and opposssite force to counteract it to keep all the ssstresssss in balance. Or whatever you are trying to build will jussst keep falling down. Take that burned bridge … well not take … ssssince the river already did that … but for example … I kicked it - that was force. It fell into the water - it caved in, no force returned. Now it could have quite easssily have jussst kicked me back insssstead. I would have dessserved it."

"I'm not sure I know what you mean Gopher. How could the bridge have kicked you back? It's just a bridge, it's something you use like one of your tools, it's not like it has a choice, it's not like it could really do anything." Just like me Christopher Robin thought, I am just something that Master uses, and I don't ever have a choice either.

"Oh that'sss where you're wrong sssonny. Everything has a choice, even a bridge. 'Courssse for a bridge, it may not be as obviousss. But everything in nature hassss a ssspirit … a sssoul. It'ssss part of the magic all around ussss. And anything with a sssoul hasss a choice."

"So you're saying that everything, even something like a bridge, has a choice?"

"That'ssss right. It wassss it'ssss choice to do nothing and cave in. Ssso for every time they tell you one bad thing, you have to tell yourssself one good thing to balance it out! Ssssometimessss you have to change, and do sssomething to fight back, and not jussst do nothing. We all ultimately have a choice, and nobody no-how can take that away."

"Even me?" Christopher Robin said doubtfully.

"Even you," Gopher replied vehemently.

"Thanks Gopher."

"Anytime sssonny."

Christopher Robin knew no matter what Gopher said he really didn't have a choice, even the bridge had more of a choice than he did. However, but it did give him something about which to think. It was all well and good that Gopher thought he did, but then Gopher didn't know he was a slave with no rights at all. The slave collar made sure of that. He had been painfully reminded of that now several times. If he tried to fight back, it would punish him. It was only here in the Hundred Acre Wood where he had any freedom at all. He wished he could just stay here always with his friends, but he didn't even have a choice in that either, anymore than he had a choice whether or not to follow Master's rules. He knew that sooner or later, he would be pulled back into the dark abyss again. And the next time he came to the Hundred Acre Wood, all his friends might have gone to Hogwarts without him. But at least there, they would be safe from Master.

He didn't want to think about it anymore, at least for now he was here, and so were his friends, well one anyway. He hadn't found the rest yet.

"Gopher? Is everyone else okay too? No one was hurt by the fire?"

"Everyone is fine ssssonny, as right assss rain," he assured him.

"Where are they then? No one answered when I called."

"Everyone but Piglet is over in the meadow calming down the hunny beesss. Hunny beesss don't like ssssmoke you know, they ssstop making hunny. And you know how bothered Pooh getsss without hunny."

"Oh yes I know!" Christopher Robin said with relief.

Gopher pulled out a large pocket watch with numerous hands from his vest pocket and consulted the time. "Well got to get busssy sssonny. You can see for yourssself that timesss a wasssting."

"Gopher? How can you tell time on such a funny clock? There are way too many hands."

"All the better to keep track of my comingsss and goingsss. I'm always busssy busssy, so the more handsss to help - the merrier I alwayssss say. Dang it! One'sss misssing. Good thing I keep a ssspare. You never know when you might need an extra hand."

"I guess that's true. You would never know."

"Now it's almost elevenses, got to get busssy! Got a bridge to build, you know."

"Okay Gopher, thanks! I'm going to go see if Piglet needs any help then."

"Righty-o sssonny. If you find anything elssse that needsss fixed, jussst give me a call. Heresss my card. Not in the book you know," Gopher said starting to gather up wood for the bridge.

"I will and I know," Christopher Robin promised as he waved goodbye.

Gopher watched as Christopher Robin waded across the river and on down the path to Piglet's house in the big Beech tree. He couldn't help but think that the boy still looked as if some enormous weight was weighing him down. He just hoped he had gotten through to him this time. If he only knew where Sir lived in the dark abyss, he was sure he could take care of the problem with just a few sticks of dynamite. One or two should do the job nicely.

"Hallooooo Piglet? Are you home?" Christopher Robin called out as the Beech tree came in sight.

"R-r-right here! Come in Christopher Robin. Come in! I'm just sweeping up," the little pink pig invited with a flourish of his broom as he swept a sooty pile of ash out the door. "When I got up this morning I asked myself … Self, what exciting thing is going to happen today? And usually nothing does, but this time it did. I don't think I like exciting. Maybe I will quit asking myself that. It seems like I am just asking for trouble, especially when I wake up with flames in my treetop. Exciting is terribly overrated."

"Well, I am excited Piglet!"

"You are?"

"Yes! I am excited to see YOU!" Christopher Robin said scooping up the little pink pig into a hug and twirling him round and round.

"Help! Help! Twirling is as bad as bouncing!" Piglet protested.

"I'm sorry Piglet!" Christopher said with a merry laugh putting him down again. "I was just so happy to see you were alright."

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"The fire … I thought …"

"Oh that. It was just a little smoke and a few flames. I wasn't really v-v-very frightened," Piglet said puffing up his chest and trying to look big.

"Oh I am sure you weren't," Christopher Robin assured him.

"It's just that it's very hard to be b-b-brave when you are a very small animal."

"Of course it is," Christopher Robin agreed.

"Were … were you f-f-frightened too?" Piglet asked timidly.

"Yes," Christopher Robin nodded. "Very much so."

"I know why I was … f-f-frightened, but why were you?"

"I was afraid that I would never see any of you again. I was afraid it was my fault."

"Why would it be your fault? Gopher said it was a camper in the woods."

"No, it wasn't a camper."

"It wasn't?"

"No."

"Who was it then?"

"It was … Sir," Christopher Robin sadly admitted.

"Sir? You mean that horrible muggle you live with when you are not here?" Piglet gasped in horror his little beady eyes getting big and round.

"Yes," Christopher Robin acknowledged softly.

"B-b-but how did he get into the woods? He's not still here is he?" Piglet asked, peeking in all the drawers and behind all the doors.

"Don't worry Piglet, he isn't here … he just lit the fire."

"B-b-but w-w-why?"

"Because he was punishing me for being bad. So you see it's my fault that the Hundred Acre Wood, and all of you, was in danger … if I had just been good … I'm … I'm sorry," Christopher Robin said regretfully.

"You were bad?" Piglet asked doubtfully. He was positive that no matter what Christopher Robin did, it could never even remotely be classified as 'bad'. Unless it had to do with breaking a rule. Piglet was very big on sticking to the rules.

"Yes."

"Oh dearie dear! You didn't break a rule did you? It's bad to break rules you know. They are there for a reason, or they wouldn't make them to begin with."

"Yes I did … at least I think I did … I'm not really sure what I did - this time. But it must have been something, mustn't it have? He wouldn't have set the fire if I had been good, right? I did try really hard this time to be good. But I just wasn't good enough," Christopher Robin admitted reluctantly.

"Well, I believe you should always follow the rules whenever possible. If you can't follow them, then it is best to do nothing. The value of doing nothing, and just going along and not bothering, is sometimes overlooked. I know it sounds like an easy way out. But it isn't everyone who can just do nothing when everyone wants you to do something."

"That's what Owl told me. He said nothings should stay nothing and not try to change and be somethings."

"Owl does know things."

"Yes he does."

"Yes," Piglet agreed nodding his head.

"But Gopher told me that everything has a choice. He said that sometimes you have to change and do something to fight back."

"Gopher does know things, too."

"Yes he does."

"Yes," Piglet agreed a second time.

"Piglet?"

"Yes?"

"What they said … it seems opposite. Can they both be right?"

"I don't see why not. They are both very smart."

"But if they are both right … and what they are saying is opposite. Which do I do?"

"Oh that's easy."

"It is?"

"Yes, you do whichever means you don't break the rules."

"Oh."

They both thought on that for a while.

"Piglet, what would you do if someone wanted you to do something, and you wanted to do it - I mean really, really, really wanted too. But you didn't know if you would be breaking a rule or not if you did it?" Christopher Robin asked thinking about Tonks.

"It is always best to follow the rules at all times. But if you don't know for sure if you will or not, then I suppose it would … depend," Piglet said with a sideways glance at his friend. He wisely guessing there was more to the question than he was asking.

"Depend?"

"Well … who made the rule?"

"Sir."

"What is the rule?"

"I can't talk," Christopher Robin said softy.

"Oh."

Piglet thought about that, thinking Christopher Robin meant that he couldn't talk about the rule, not that the rule was that he couldn't talk.

"If you can't talk about the rule - can you think about it?"

"I do. All the time."

"Do you ever stop thinking about it, and then forget to start again?"

"No. Why?"

"Well, as much as I believe in following rules -_whenever possible_, and if it's not possible to just do nothing - on the rare occasion, it is sometimes best to simply stop thinking about them, and then to forget to start again."

"But if I don't think about them, someone might get hurt! As you almost were, and like Mercury was."

"Who's Mercury?"

"He's an owl."

"OWL! Owl got hurt!"

"No! No … not our _Owl. _ A very nice, but very different owl."

"And he got hurt because you didn't think about a rule?"

"Yes," Christopher Robin nodded. "Sir shot him."

"Because you broke a rule?"

"Yes."

"If you had done nothing would Sir have hurt Mercury anyway?"

"Probably. Sir doesn't like owls."

"So that's all right then. You didn't break a rule. That was a depend," Piglet said relieved, as if that settled everything.

"I didn't? It was?"

"Yes. You see what Sir did didn't depend on what you did. So it didn't matter if you followed the rule or not. Even if you did nothing or not, it still would have happened. So it was a depend. When you have a depend the rule doesn't apply. So you aren't breaking it if you don't think about it."

"Oh," Christopher Robin thought about that. "So what you're saying is that sometimes … depending … it is okay to stop to thinking about the rule?"

"On a rare occasion, if you aren't really breaking a rule, and you can't just do nothing."

"On a rare occasion?"

"Very."

"Piglet?"

"Yes?"

"I think I might have made a new friend."

"There is someone new in the woods? It isn't another Tigger or Woozle is it? I don't know if I can take any more bouncers and pouncers. The Woods already have more than enough of them. I always end up getting squashed in the middle between the bouncing and the pouncing! And that can be s-s-scary when you are a V-v-very Small Animal."

"No not in the woods … I think I made a friend in the other place … in the dark abyss."

"Well, that's good isn't it?" Piglet asked seeing the hesitant expression on Christopher Robin's face.

"I don't know. I've never had one there before. And I am not sure if it okay for me to have a friend."

"Of course it is! And you already have friends! You have me, and Pooh, and Eeyore, and Tigger, and Owl, and Rabbit, and Gopher, and Kanga, and Roo, the Woozle, and the Wizzle, and even all of Rabbits friends and relations. Why wouldn't it be okay for you to have another one?"

"Because …" Christopher Robin just couldn't tell the little pig it was because as a slave he didn't have the right to have anything, even friends. And he wasn't sure if he could trust Tonks anyway, even if she did sound so very friendly. It could have been a trick of Master's to catch him doing something wrong. "It might be a trick. What if it is? What if I can't trust her?"

"Hm … those are good questions. Sometimes to make a new friend you just have to have faith and be brave."

"I am not sure if I am brave enough to try and have a friend. I don't want anyone to get hurt, and all my friends seem to get hurt because of me. Besides … I don't know if she will come back anyway."

"I think you are a lot like me Christopher Robin."

"I am?"

"Yes, because we are both very small. It can't be easy being a Very Small Boy, any more than it is to be a Very Small Animal. It's not as easy as it looks. Not everyone could do it. And sometimes I find I have to be braver than my size. When you are Very Little like I am, you can't just sit in your own corner of the Woods. If you do, no one can find you. Sometimes you have to go out and find them instead."

"But what if … what if Sir doesn't want me to … to have a friend?"

"Well you need to be careful to always follow any rules. However, sometimes you also have to be brave enough to do something you think it is right, even if nobody else does."

"You do?"

"Yes, like now. Everyone else is over in the meadow, while I stayed here to be the responsible one and clean up after the fire. It would have been more fun to play in the meadow, but someone had to do what was right."

"So depending on it not breaking rule, and if it is the right thing to do, it would be okay to have a new friend?"

"Of course, everyone deserves a friend."

"Even me?"

"Even you," Piglet said fondly.

Christopher Robin wasn't all that sure that Master would agree with Piglet on this one. Anymore than Master would agree with Gopher telling him to fight back. But since one of the rules was that he couldn't ask questions, he would just have to figure it out on his own.

'_After all … if Master won't allow me to ask if it's okay to have a friend, then Master can't tell me no. Can he? And if he doesn't tell me no, then I'm not breaking any rule. So this would be a depend. Maybe I can have a friend depending on Master not finding out and making a rule against it. As long as I don't break any of his other rules to do it.'_

Christopher Robin was blissfully unaware that he was finally getting what he had been dreading getting all along, knowing it would anger Ma'am if she knew … he was finally getting an idea of his very own.

Piglet let out a big yawn. "Oh dearie! I didn't know being responsible would be so much work, and it was a very late night or a very early morning depending on which side of it you are on."

"Why don't you take a nap? I can help and finish sweeping up for you. I am very good at it," Christopher Robin offered as Piglet climbed onto his tall bed piled high with soft quilts.

"Christopher Robin?"

"Yes Piglet?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to be sure you were still here."

"I am Piglet."

"Good."

The little pink pig snuggled down for his nap, secure in the idea that he had done his best to impress upon Christopher Robin the need to always follow the rules, whenever possible, so that he wouldn't get into any more trouble. And if he couldn't do that, to just do nothing and go along.

He was very proud that Christopher Robin had come to him for advice, and not Pooh, or Owl, or Eeyore. They would have probably just filled his head with fluff and nonsense he thought. He worried about Christopher Robin, and didn't like it when he got into trouble. So he was very glad he could help set him on the straight and narrow path.

Christopher Robin tucked him in, finished the sweeping, and then slipped out the door heading back towards the dark abyss, with an entirely different idea starting to grow in his mind than what Piglet thought he planted there.

If Piglet, a Very Small Animal, could be brave …

… well then … so could he!


	31. Arthur and Percy Wake Up

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Friday morning, August 2nd, 1991

**Chapter 31 – Arthur and Percy Wake Up**

'_Merlin! I know it's in here somewhere …'_

The unsettling dream that has awoken Arthur Weasley that morning had made him remember something he had long ago put away and forgotten. Now it seemed of utmost importance to him to find it once again - he just couldn't quite remember where he had put it. In frustration, Arthur finally upended the entire junk drawer on top of his worktable and started rummaging through the mess. Little bits of plugs and wires here, nuts and bolts there …

"Hi Dad. Where is everybody? Something exciting must be happening this morning to get everyone up and out so early."

Arthur Weasley looked up from his sorting as his son Percy came into his workshop. He had to stifle a chuckle at the clashing bright pink stripes his son was sporting in his normally Weasley red hair. The combination was a spectacular eye catching clash of colours. The florescent stripes were most likely courtesy of one of his younger sons. Of course, he wouldn't put it past his daughter, Ginny, to have been the one to do it either. They were all merciless pranksters, and Percy was their current favourite target.

"It's not really that early Percy, it's almost eleven. Your mother decided there were a few more supplies that she needed to pick up, so everyone else has already left for Diagon Alley. You were sleeping so soundly that your mother didn't want to wake you, so I sent them on ahead. Haven't ever known you to sleep this late, are you … um … not feeling in the pink?" Arthur asked giving Percy a bemused look.

"I'm fine Dad. I was just up late going over the rulebook Professor McGonagall sent me for the Prefects. I didn't realize I slept in so late. Did I miss anything important at breakfast? Were there any changes to today's plans besides visiting Diagon Alley?" Percy asked running his fingers though his hair to comb it.

"No, I'd say you touched on about everything." Arthur said with barely controlled mirth as he watched his fussy son who was totally unaware of his new sporty look. "So… um… _(cough ha cough) …_ so why were you up so late reading the rule book?"

"I just want to make sure I have it memorized before term starts."

"You know Percy, your mother and I am very proud of you being selected as a Prefect. However, it is okay to have a little fun - it is still summer Holiday."

"I know Dad. It's just that I want to make sure I do a good job. It isn't everyone who could do it you know. Prefects have a lot of responsibility." Percy said puffing up a little and polishing the already gleaming badge pinned to his jumper.

"Yes they do son, and I know you will do a fine job. I am just worried you are taking it all a little too seriously."

"Well I think some _others_ aren't taking it seriously enough."

"You mean your brothers?"

"Who else?" Percy said with a snort.

"You know they are really proud of you too."

"You could have fooled me."

"They wouldn't tease you so much if they didn't care, they would just ignore you entirely."

"That might be better."

"You don't mean that."

"No … I guess not … it's just that I get tired of always being made fun of. If it isn't Bill and Charlie ganging up on me, it's the twins and Ron. It seems like I am always caught in the middle between them."

"Ah … the curse of the middle child rears its ugly head."

"But I'm _NOT_ the middle child!" Percy protested. "Fred or George is. By the way Dad which one of them _is_ older?"

"You know … I don't really know … they wouldn't identify themselves when they came out and they have been confusing the issue ever since. But be that as it may, you are still my middle son by age."

"Why is being in the middle a curse? Was I cursed by some wizard and not know it? Who was it? Why did he do it? Can it be reversed? Why wasn't I told?"

Arthur laughed heartily at the look of absolute indignation on his son's face.

"Nothing like that Percy. The 'curse of the middle child' has been around as long as there have been dynamics within families. The middle child is too young to keep up with the oldest. When they try, the older children tease them. Moreover, they consider themselves too mature to be grouped with their younger siblings. That makes the youngest feel slighted that they don't want to be part of their group, and so they tease back in revenge. The middle child is in a 'no man's land' so to speak."

"So there is nothing I can do about it?"

"Wait."

"Wait?"

"Yes, that is about all you can do. AHA! Here it is." Arthur said triumphantly finally finding the elusive object of his search.

"How will waiting help? No matter how long I wait, by your reasoning, I will still be the middle child. Unless you and Mum haven't told us something …" Percy said uncertainly after noticing the clock hand his father was holding and the family clock, now laying on the worktable. The clock had one hand for each member of the family, but instead of telling time, it told where each member was.

"What? OH! No, no, Percy … it's nothing like that. Ahem … I'm just … ahem… doing nothing here. Anyway, as I was saying all things are _relative _son, just give it enough time and you'll all be in the category of 'old men' … it won't make a difference then."

"I have to wait that long?"

"Well maybe not quite _that_ long, but yes. The point being, given enough time it really won't matter anymore to any of you. At the end of your days, you'll find it will be your brothers and sister who'll be by your side. And that's what will matter, that's what life is all about … family."

"Just family? What about friends?" Percy asked thinking about his imaginary friend and Christopher Robin's longing for a friend.

"Just like our house is cobbled together with a room added each time we added a child, you can build a family too from all sorts of people - friends included. They help balance the structure. Family is what you make it son. It's who you invite into your heart to live," Arthur responded thinking of Harry, the little almost-son he had lost, and Christopher Robin the dream son he couldn't quite reach.

"Well I wish my brothers knew it now, because all these pranks are getting really old, really fast. I just wish the twins took things more seriously. They're a bad influence on Ron. I can already see him taking after them. If he keeps it up, I am worried about his potential at Hogwarts."

"I don't think you need to worry about Ron, he'll be fine. However, I would like to ask you a question."

"Sure Dad."

"This is the year you take your O.W.L.'s. Where is it you're hoping they will direct you in life? Have you given it any thought? If you haven't you soon will."

"Oh I already know."

"You do?"

"Yes, I want to work for the Ministry for Magic like you do. I think I can do a lot of good there."

"In the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office?" Arthur asked, surprised yet hopeful.

"Oh no, not there! I want to be in Administration. Eventually maybe I'll even run for the office of Minister," Percy said importantly. "I think I could be of great influence and help bring some much needed order to the Wizarding World. There are just too many people out there doing their own thing and not following the rules."

"You do know that for the most part, rules are just guidelines, and that not every rule should always be rigidly enforced every time? If a rule was made to never be broken, they would have made it a law."

This was starting to remind Percy about the dream from which he had awoken. He had been talking with his imaginary friend Christopher Robin about the importance of following rules, and he remembered saying in his dream that on the rare occasion sometimes rules just didn't apply. He couldn't think of why he would say such a thing since it was against everything he believed in, but he remembered thinking at the time that he really did need to say it, that it was something that his friend seemed to need to hear. However, he also knew that it was just a dream and that Christopher Robin was just imaginary.

Nevertheless, Percy being Percy always wanted to be right and proper, be it in a dream or in real life. Being right and proper was very important to Percy. It brought the security of order to his world in the midst of his chaotic family.

"Dad … is that really true? Do you really believe that sometimes you shouldn't pay attention to the rules?"

"I would say it depends on the circumstances, but yes, there are times."

"On a rare occasion."

"Yes."

"Oh good," Percy said with relief.

"Oh good why?"

"Well … I might have told a friend that very thing, and I just wanted to be sure I didn't give him bad advice."

Percy wasn't sure he wanted to admit to his father that at the responsible age of fifteen, he still occasionally dreamed about an imaginary friend. Nevertheless, the dream had left him a little uneasy and it would be a relief to get it off his chest so he could quit worrying about it.

"Do you think it was bad advice?" Arthur asked his son in return.

"I think you should follow the rules whenever possible. It's the responsible thing to do. So yes, I guess it was bad advice after all. But it probably didn't matter what I said anyway."

"Why wouldn't it matter what you said to your friend? Do you think this friend wasn't listening?"

"Well, to be honest, it was just a conversation I remembered from a dream I was having when I woke up this morning. Since it wasn't real, and only a dream, it really couldn't matter what I said. Could it?"

"Oh but it does Percy, it does. Don't you see that?"

"How could it matter if it was just a dream?"

"Because dreams are an extension of ourselves, of what we are thinking, of what we are trying to work through. They tell us a lot about ourselves, all of our hopes are in our dreams, and they matter very much. There is a whole discipline in magic devoted to it."

"You mean Divination?" Percy snorted. "That's just a lot of fluff and nonsense."

"Yes, Divination and Prophecy, and don't scoff Son! Remember that they are both very real magic, and can be quite powerful in their own right. Even the Ministry of Magic takes that type of magic very seriously. In fact, I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but they have a whole room at the ministry just to store prophecies. They deserve your respect son."

"Okay Dad, I'll remember." Percy replied penitent.

"That's all I ask son." Arthur replied, patting him on the back.

"Is it all right if I floo to Hogwarts to see Professor McGonagall instead of joining the others in Diagon Alley? I already have all my supplies, and I would like to ask her a few questions that I outlined from the rulebook. I would also like to return her owl to her."

"Is the owl well enough to travel?"

"Yes, I checked on him when I got up, he seems to be recovering nicely, but a bit anxious to return home. He nearly bit my thumb off when I offered him one of Errol's owl treats. He will probably recover quicker at Hogwarts with Hagrid looking after him."

"Alright then, give the Professor my best, and when you see her please let her know your mother and I will be at the meeting tonight."

"There's a meeting tonight?"

"Yes, in Headmaster Dumbledore's office."

"What's it about?" Percy asked offhandedly, trying not to appear curious.

"We're going to discuss cutting back the Prefects' responsibilities. Maybe doing away with the position all together," Arthur said with a completely straight face.

"NO!" Percy squealed like a stuck pig.

"Just kidding, son, just kidding."

"Don't scare me like that Dad! It's not funny!"

Arthur watched as Percy left the workshop with a lighter step than when he had arrived. He worried about that boy. It saddened him that he was so black and white in his thinking. Sticking to the rules, and doing what's right, was not always the same thing. He only hoped he would be able to see that eventually for himself, and be brave enough to do something about it.

'_Hm … I should have warned him about his hair before he left to see Minerva. Oh well, too late for that now I suppose.' _

Talking with his father had made Percy feel so much better. He had turned the responsibility for his uneasy feelings over to an adult. Now he could just do nothing more about it and not be bothered. It is not everyone who could do that – let go of a problem so easily. He knew his brothers wouldn't, they would worry it to death and end up getting in trouble by doing something utterly foolish - but not him. He felt such a relief, he could now go back to what was really important, and not think any more about childish things like imaginary friends.

However, the talk with his son didn't make Arthur feel any better, especially in light of his own uneasy dreams lately about his dream son. Now he just had more sons about which to worry.

He picked up the clock hand he had made so many years ago, with the name of his lost almost-son engraved on it, and after a moment's hesitation affixed it to the face of the family clock. As he watched, the hand wobbled a bit at first then slowly started to spin around the dial. It travelled not even halfway before it stopped dead, and he felt the bottom drop out of his world. What did it mean?

There was no spot on the clock for death. He had expected that if Harry were truly dead the hand would just keep spinning unable to find a spot to land, and he would finally know for sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that what Albus had told him was true. However, it hadn't kept spinning. It hadn't even spun all the way around the dial. It had just gone partway and stopped on the worst fear he held for any of his children, dead centre on 'Mortal Peril'.

Was this the closest to it the clock could come to death? Is that what it meant? Or … did it mean Harry Potter was still alive somewhere, but in danger?

'_Gods! What in Merlin's name am I going to tell Molly?'_

Putting the hand on the clock had just confused him more.

It didn't settle the issue, and it certainly didn't make him feel any better.

Not at all.


	32. To Protect and to Serve

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Friday about noon, August 2nd, 1991

**Chapter 32 – To Protect and to Serve**

"DAD! FINALLY! ITSBEENRINGINGFOREVER! YOUVEBEENGONEFORHOURS! WHEREWEREYOU!"

"Dora? Is that you? Calm down and tell me what's wrong."

"ineedhelp … wellnotme … butthislittlemuggleboy … andidontknowwhattodo … buthesintrouble … theylefthimallnight … aloneinthegarden! … atfirstithought … itwasjustablackdog … butthenifoundoutitwasnt … andthereisthisattackowl … itriedtotalktohim … buthewouldnttalkback … thenthishorribleman … andthishorriblewoman … andthelittleboy … hecouldnthavebeen … morethaneight … heissothindad … idontthinktheyfeedhim … andtheychainedhimup! … thenthemanlitafire … andtheboyputhishandinit … hecouldhavebeenburned … thenthehorribleman … hithimanddad … hedraggedhimbackinside … and oh dad…"

"Dora?… Dora?" Ted Tonks said trying to get a word in edgewise.

"helpmeplease!"

"DORA! Listen … calm down and take a breath. Are you at your London Flat?"

"yesihurriedbackhere … ididntknowwhereelsetogo … icouldntthinkofwhattodo … buttocallyou … nothinglikethis … wascoveredinaurortraining … andihavetodo … somethingquick… theycouldbekillinghim … RIGHTNOW! … icantcallshacklebolt … iwasntsupposed … tobethere… iwassupposedtobe … doingpaperwork… butigotbored … andiwasfollowing … theministerinstead… anditledmethere… buttheyaremuggles … withsomesortof … magicalprotection… idontknowwhattodo … oh dad … what do I do!"

"Okay, I think you said yes you're at your flat. As for the rest, I haven't a clue. I'm going to come to you. I don't think I'm going to get much from you over the phone. Just hold tight Dora, your mother and I will be right there."

"Thanks Dad," Tonks said with relief. If anyone knew what to do, it would be her Dad.

Within seconds, Ted and Andromeda Tonks had apparated into the living room of their daughter's colourful but cosy flat.

"ohdadthankyouforcoming … ijustdidntknow … whoelsetocall!" Tonks said throwing herself sobbing into her father's welcoming bear-like hug. "andmum … thankyouforcomingtoo … ithinkineedallthehelp … icanget."

"Nymphadora, drink this and then come sit down and tell us what this is all about." Andromeda Tonks handed her daughter a calming draught.

"notnowmum … icantweneedtodo … somethingnow!" Tonks said waving the potion away in agitation.

"Dora, listen to your mother and drink it. We can't help, if we can't understand what you are talking about." Ted Tonks pointed out reasonably, handing his daughter the vial containing the potion that she had pushed aside.

Tonks looked from one parent to the other, and seeing only anxiety in their eyes, she finally obeyed the request. After downing the draught in one swallow, she allowed them to lead her to the sofa to sit between them.

"Calmer?" Ted asked his daughter and received a tentative nod in return. Ted looked at his daughter with concern. She was so young, barely eighteen, and had already been accepted into the prestigious Auror program. Nevertheless, right now, sitting between his wife and him, she looked more like twelve. Her heart shaped face was distraught with a myriad of emotions trying to come under control. Ted Tonks loved his spirited daughter more than he could ever say. She may be a big bad Auror now, but to him she would always be his baby girl who needed protection.

"Then tell us what is going on, but slower this time, much … much … slower," her mother encouraged.

Tonks took a deep breath and launched into a tale of everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. From the previous morning, when Amelia Bones had first given her the Dursley file to give to Kingsley Shacklebolt, right up to apparating home to call the two of them for help.

"I just don't know what to do. I wanted to help that little boy so badly, and I tried. I just couldn't get into the garden. The wards kept me out, and whenever I tried a spell, it just bounced off."

"What did you say this little boy looked like?" Andromeda asked.

"I never got a really good look at him. What I saw was all through a knothole in the fence. However, he looked about eight, very dirty, with messy black hair."

"Messy black hair? Are you sure he couldn't have been any older? Say maybe … eleven?"

"I don't think so, he was very small and thin, I wouldn't think he was more than eight at the most."

"Oh … then it couldn't possibly be …" Andromeda said wistfully with a note of sadness in her voice

"Couldn't be what Mum?"

"Well … we tried to adopt a baby boy many years ago, he had black hair, and vivid green eyes, but he would be eleven this summer. I heard a rumour that the Ministry placed him with his muggle relatives. I just thought for a moment …"

"You and Dad tried to adopt a baby boy? I almost had a little brother? And I'm just finding this out now?"

"We didn't mean to keep you in the dark Nymphadora. It was just that we applied to adopt the little boy when his parents were killed by You-Know-Who, but we were turned down."

"Why were you turned down?"

"They said it was because of our 'connections' with known Death Eaters."

"WHAT!"

"Your Aunt Bella and Uncle Rudolphus."

"Grandmother disowned us when you married Dad! We _have_ no connections!"

"True, but the Ministry was being very cautious. They didn't want to place the Boy-who-lived with just anyone."

"You said the Boy-who-lived?" Tonks gasped in stark disbelief. "You mean _Harry Potter, _the boy-who-lived was almost _**my**_ little brother!"

"The one and only. We were good friends of the Potters. It would have been a privilege to be able to adopt their son. He was such a cute baby too, had the messy black hair of his father and the brilliant green eyes of his mother, and so happy. I never heard him cry, and he had such a charming little giggle. It would just melt your heart. And talk about talented, he showed the first signs of magic at just a month old I am told."

"And they placed him with muggles? Where?"

"We never found out, so when you mentioned messy black hair, I thought for a moment … but enough of this! He would be eleven now, and we have an eight-year-old to figure out how to save, and you say this is a muggle family?" her mother asked obviously puzzled.

"That's what it looks like. However, I don't understand what a muggle family, in the middle of the most muggle neighbourhood you have ever seen, is doing with powerful wards around their house. Or for that matter, what the Minister's involvement is. The little boy must be muggle too, or his accidental magic would have been protecting him from being hurt. From what I could see he has been hurt plenty."

"You're right. If he were magical, his accidental magic would have protected him. So if we assume then, that he's a muggle, could it be the man or the woman you saw who is magical? Moreover, are you positive the minister is involved? Do you have any way of proving it?" Ted asked his interest piqued. He had no love for the current minister, and had entertained the thought, however briefly, of running for the office himself. However, Fudge somehow had seemed to have a stream of endless funds for his campaign.

"I don't think they are. At least I never saw either of them do anything with magic. And no, I can't prove the minister is involved, but it just makes sense. Umbridge came looking for this file with the name 'Dursley' on it, she works directly for Fudge. Then when I followed both of them later, they led me to a factory where a 'Vernon Dursley' worked, and this Dursley led me to a house surrounded by magic. It comes full circle, but I have to admit I never saw them together, and Umbridge took the file before I could read much of it. So no, I don't have any proof, no proof at all, just a hunch. However, that's not what's important here. I have to find a way to help that little boy, and quickly!"

"Why don't you call Shacklebolt? He's your supervisor and it seems to me this is a job for your Auror department." Andromeda questioned.

"I can't, at least not yet. That's why I called you instead. I wasn't supposed to be there," Tonks admitted sheepishly. "I can't tell them about the little boy, without telling them _how _I found him. And I can't tell them how I found him, without bringing Fudge and Umbridge into it. And as you pointed out yourself, I have no proof their involved. And without proof, I can't do that – they'd fire me on the spot, and being an Auror is all I ever wanted to be. Anyway, if these _are_ muggles, they might not even be aware of the wards around the house, and if there isn't anyone magical in danger, then the Auror's can't intercede because of the Code of Secrecy. I need another way, a _muggle _way, to help."

"Call CPS then," Ted Tonks advised.

"Who?"

"CPS - Child Protective Services. It's a muggle governmental agency. Call them with an anonymous tip, and they will check it out. If they find cause, they will remove the child from the household."

"Oh they'll find cause and lot of it. I can guarantee it! That is such a good idea Dad! I'll call right now. I really don't think he has much time."

"Is there anything else we can do?"

"No, I think it is up to me now. Thanks Dad. Thanks Mum. I feel much better now that I have an action plan."

"If there is anything else you need just call. Okay?"

"Okay Dad. You know, this is the first time that I am truly grateful you made me put in that telephone. Never saw the sense in it before."

"Not all muggle inventions are totally worthless," Ted Tonks laughed, giving his daughter another hug before disapparating.

"Okay here we go … C-C-C …" Tonks muttered to herself as she ran a finger down the page of telephone listings, "… Ch— Chi- ah were we go … 'Child Protective Services' just like Dad said. Well, here goes nothing," Tonks thought. Nevertheless, before she dialled the number to file her complaint, she took the precaution of putting a quick spell on the line so no one could trace the call back to her flat.

"I need to report a case of child abuse …"

"Yes that's what I said … abuse …"

"The address? Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."

"Dursley."

"No I don't know the name of the child, but they are starving and abusing him."

"No as far as I am aware there is only one child there."

"A boy."

"My name? Er … I just wanted to report this anonymously. Oh …? Okay … uh … it's Lestrange, yes that right L-E-S-T-R-A-N-G-E, Bella … yes B-E-L-L-A."

"Where do I live? Uh … Number 6 Privet Drive … that's right, the house next door."

"Uh … sure I can meet the Constables there. If it's right away that is. The child needs help right now. It's a matter of life and death. Okay … thank you."

"Well that's done. Good job Tonks!" she patted herself on the back as she hung up the phone with satisfaction. "Now to get back to Surrey to meet the police, but first a little disguise is in order …"

Tonks used her metamorphmagus abilities to change her hair from pink into tightly curled locks of grey then added age lines and wrinkles to her face and hands. After rummaging through her closet for the dowdy grey dress she had worn the previous fall, when she went as a hag to the Hogwarts' Halloween party, she shoved a floppy purple hat on her head. With a crack of displaced air, she then apparated to Surrey bent on completing her rescue mission.

Just as she disapparated into the upstairs back bedroom of Number 6, she could hear the doorbell ringing below. Hastily hurrying down the staircase, she pulled open the front door and then pushed open the screen. Realizing a second too late, how close the two large burley policemen were standing and the screen, she smacked one of them soundly in the face.

"Ouch!"

"Oops! Sorry about that Constable."

"G'day Ma'am. I'm Constable Ernest Worthington and this is my partner Constable Bertrand Goodbody," he nodded at the second officer who was rubbing his nose. "We were patrolling the neighbourhood, because of recent vandal activity, and were radioed to investigate the report you filed with Child Protective Services. We understand you said this was a matter of life and death, so we just wanted to let you know we had arrived and are on the case."

The two police officers doffed their hats, and with one still rubbing his very red nose, proceeded to the house next door.

"Thank you, officers! And I'm so sorry about the screen Constable Goodbody," Tonks called after them in her best little old lady voice. _'Ah they'll do nicely - big and scary!' _

Unaware they were about to receive visitors, a very different lazy afternoon scene was playing out in Number 4. Petunia was sitting in an easy chair in the living room leisurely working on a crossword puzzle, Dudley was glued to the telly playing with his Sega game system, while Marge and Ripper were snoozing on the sofa, all four completely oblivious to Boy who was quietly cleaning around them.

After Vernon had left for work, and Marge had left to walk Ripper to the park, Petunia had woken Boy up and set him to work completing his inside chores. Right now, he was silently cleaning the living room carpet of the shredded bits of the newspaper left by Ripper, and the broken potato crisps courtesy of Dudley. He had already finished the laundry, made lunch, cleaned up afterwards, scrubbed the stone tile floor of the kitchen, mopped and waxed the hardwood floors of the foyer and hall, and started dinner. All in complete silence, and all without Miss even being aware he was in the house. He had a lot of practice pretending not to exist, and he was very good at it. Right now, he was on his hands and knees, just mere centimetres away from the bloated right hand that Miss had flung off the sofa and onto the floor in her sleep. Boy was staring at the hand, wondering if he could tease the last bit of newspaper out from under it without waking her, when the doorbell rang.

Boy froze until Ripper did the opposite. As the dog started barking, Boy dashed like lightning for the hall, and slid into the cupboard pulling the door tightly closed behind him. Following closely on his heels, Ma'am drove the bolt home and snapped the padlock closed. Leaning closely to the door, she whispered just loud enough for Boy to hear over the dog's howls.

"Make one sound, even one, and I won't stop Vernon next time. Do you hear me Boy? Don't be getting any ideas in there. Vernon says you'll be gone in two days, so if you don't make any trouble between now and then, and do everything I say, I won't let anything else happen. Remember not one sound. You don't exist."

Boy held his breath as he could hear Ma'am answer the door.

"Why Constables, how nice to see you both again. What may I do to help you two fine gentlemen this glorious afternoon?" Petunia asked coquettishly of the two young strappingly handsome police officers at the door.

"G'day Ma'am," Constable Worthington addressed her. "We're investigating a report that was filed against this address."

"Why officer, we haven't been shooting at any more owls. I promise." Petunia crossed her heart and batted her eyes.

"This report isn't for gunfire this time, it is for abuse. May we come in? This is best handled in private, Ma'am."

"Why of course, of course Constables. Please come in, I assure you it must be a mistake. Are you sure you have the right address?"

"Is this Number 4 Privet Drive, the residence of the Dursleys?"

"Yes, yes it is, but … abuse! Oh my! Who do they say is being abused?"

"The report does not specify, just that is it one male child."

"I can assure you my Dudley is not abused!" Petunia gasped. "He is just fine. Come in, and see for yourself."

"What's going on Petunia?" Marge rasped from the living room. "Ripper is all a dither!"

"These fine policemen say someone had called in an abuse report on Dudley!"

"WHAT! Officers, my nephew wouldn't hurt a fly! He is always a perfect little gentleman." Marge staunchly defended Dudley while holding the agitated bulldog close in her arms.

"Sorry for the confusion Ma'am. The report was not that the child was abusing someone, but that he was being abused." Constable Goodbody replied in a carefully neutral monotone voice as he apprised the overly chubby blonde boy he could see in the living room. The boy was sitting on the floor eating crisps, still so engrossed in his video game he hadn't even noticed the ruckus created by Ripper, or the officer's arrival in the room.

After exchanging a look with his partner, Bert addressed to the two livid women. "Is the mister of the house at home as well?"

"No Vernon is still at work. Why?"

"We are obliged to thoroughly check out all reports of this kind, while we look 'round would you kindly request he return home so that we can have a word with him as well?"

"Well I never!" Marge bellowed in indignation.

"I'm sure that's true Ma'am," Constable Goodbody intoned dryly. "But be that as it may, no doubt you understand it is only for the protection of your nephew that we are asking for your cooperation."

"Of course Officers, of course. Anything for my nephey-poo. Petunia! Call Vernon at once and tell him to come home right now. The sooner we are done with this the better," Marge ordered taking charge of the situation. "I will show the officers around."

Petunia made one quick guilty glance toward the cupboard under the stairs and started dialling Vernon.

The first police officer Ern, had a feeling of déjà vu as they passed through the hall into the kitchen, and lagged behind pausing near the bottom of the staircase while he tried to place the feeling. He remembered there had been something odd about the house the day before when they had been called out to investigate gunshots, and had been just about mentioned it to his partner Bert, when they were distracted by the missus of the house in the back garden holding a shotgun. There was something about the hallway that had seemed out of place in the midst of the immaculate surroundings … now what was it?

Boy hugged his knees close to his chest and put his head down to muffle his breath. He could hear the man pause in the hall right outside his door.

'_Please don't find me … please don't find me … Master and Ma'am will be so angry … I don't exist … I don't exist … I don't exist … please … please … please … please don't find me …'_

'_Oh well, just can't think of it_.' Ern shrugged as the fleeting memory slipped back into the depths of his mind and out of his grasp. _'Must not have been that important.'_

"Hey Bert!" he called out.

"Yeah Ern?" Bert called back from the kitchen.

"I'm going to check out the upstairs and talk with the boy. You check out the rest of the house and garden and I'll meet you back in the living room." Ern proceeded to shrug off his vague out-of-place feelings, and went back to the living room to find the blonde boy.

"Hey there sonny, my name is Ernie, what's yours?" Ern asked crouching down low so he was eye-to-eye with the boy sitting on the carpet in front of the telly.

"Dudley."

"How about you show me your room Dudley?"

Dudley looked at his mother and saw her nod that he was to go with the officer so he sighed, put down the hand control, and hefted himself off the ground.

"This way," he said with a putout tone and heading up the stairs.

Ernie followed the petulant boy upstairs and admired his room, or should he say rooms, as the boy had an extra one just for all the toys that couldn't fit into the first one. He could tell that the boy was not obviously wanting for anything, at least not for material items, and from his bulk he could honestly say he was positive they weren't starving him either, quite the opposite. The old woman who reported it was probably just trying to get some petty revenge for some imagined slight. Maybe she was still upset about Mrs. Dursley waking her too early the previous morning with shooting off the shotgun. It likely threw off her whole week.

'_This is a waste of time,' _Ern thought. _'But the captain will be expecting a thorough report anyway.'_

"So Dudley, you know it's okay to talk to me don't you? About anything?" he said in a friendly way.

"About anything and I won't get into trouble?" Dudley asked incredulously.

There had been a couple of things he had wanted to know about police work. Such as when Piers egged them on to paint the graffiti all over the school, why didn't the police catch them with surveillance tapes? And when Gordon thought it would be funny to push over the swing set in the park when the little kids were still on it, why didn't the police use lie detectors on them instead of just believing their story that they hadn't been anywhere near the park? Moreover, why no line up? He was sure that one of the mothers who had been there with their babies had seen them, and could have identified them. In addition, when Malcolm showed the rest of the gang how to shoplift candy bars from the corner market, why weren't they able to track them down with fingerprints as they do on the telly? And what would happened if their gang ever got caught? Oh, he had lots of questions.

"Yep, _anything_ Dudley, me and my partner Bert we are here to protect you. No matter what you tell me, you won't get into trouble. Therefore, if there is anything troubling you, anything at all, you can tell either one of us and we'll do our best to help. Now is there anything you would like to talk to me about? Has anyone been hitting you? Do you get enough to eat?"

'_Oh no! It's about the freak! That's why they're here! Someone must have seen him! But that's bad - Dad and Mum said if anyone ever found out he was here, they would put him in prison for murder! That's not fair! He's just a little kid! I'm sure he didn't mean it. I've got to do something! I know … if I confess to shoplifting, and the other stuff, maybe they will quit asking questions and go away and leave him alone.'_

Ern noticed the fleeting look of terror that passed over Dudley's face and was shocked. Maybe there was more to this complaint than he thought.

"It's okay Dudley, you can tell me …" he gently prodded.

"If … if somebody does something really really bad. What would happen to him?"

"Him? Dudley is your father hurting you?"

"OH NO! Nothing like that! My Dad doesn't hit _**me**_at all. Noooooo … it's something else …"

"What is it then?" Ern questioned, totally missing the stress Dudley had put on the word 'me'.

"I-I-I I shopliftedabunchofcandy … fromthemarket … andpaintedgraffiti … ontheschool," Dudley rattled off in one breath. There that ought to do it. He would admit to his own guilt, but leave the rest of the gang out of it. The policeman had only promised him immunity.

Ern, practiced at taking confessions from juvenile offenders, understood every word of the garbled admission, and his eyes narrowed with disgust.

'_So he's the vandal we've been looking for. I should have known it. He's just another spoiled rich kid with too much time on his hands during the summer Holiday.'_

"Dudley! Come back down here and bring the constable with you!" Vernon Dursley's voice boomed up the stairs.

Vernon Dursley was as sweet as sugar when the Constables joined him in the living room, after they had a hurried consultation in the hallway.

"Well, well officers, good to see our tax dollars going to such good use. Now can you kindly tell me why I was summoned home before the end of the work day?"

"Sorry to put you out sir, we have a duty to perform. When a complaint of child abuse is filed it must be checked out thoroughly, no matter how ungrounded it may seem on the surface."

"It is obvious that our son is in no way abused, so you can just be on your way now."

"Not so fast sir. We will be citing you and the missus here, as well as your son."

"WHAT!" Vernon roared.

"Yes sir. We will be citing the youngster for misdemeanour vandalism."

"That is preposterous!" Vernon sputtered.

"No so, the lad confessed to graffiti and shoplifting."

"Dudley!" Petunia gasped in shock. "Not my precious boy! It had to have been those friends of yours. I told you they were a bad influence."

"No Mum. It was just me," Dudley muttered. His head hanging low as he dug a toe into the carpet. He refused to give up his pals, and he was still determined to deflect, both the officers investigation and his parents wrath, from his cousin.

"Dudley … NO!"

"Sorry Mum. But he promised me I wouldn't get into trouble if I told him!" Dudley protested pointing at Constable Worthington.

"Certainly officer, as a first time offense you can let the boy off with just a warning?" Marge demanded more than asked.

"We might if it weren't for the other charges, now we think it might be better if the entire family were seen at CPS."

"OTHER CHARGES? CPS! Child Protective Services? But officers it is obvious Dudley is not abused!" Vernon fumed.

"Quite the contrary sir, we feel his acting out may be directly related to the child endangerment and neglect charges that we are citing you and the misses for."

"CHILD ENDANGERMENT AND NEGLECT!"

"Yes. That is quite an unhealthy weight on the young man. Moreover, you obviously haven't been supervising him adequately, if he has time for vandalism and mischief. Children need more than just material things," Constable Goodbody replied handing Vernon the citations. "You will all need to report to family court next Monday. Good day Sir."

The two Constables shook their heads in disbelief as they continued on their discreet fact finding mission by canvassing the area and interviewing the Dursley's neighbours. The neighbours, chatty lot that they were, confirmed that Dudley was the only child that lived at Number 4. Moreover, all of the neighbours were convinced that their presence was proof that Petunia was under investigation for cheating to win the Garden Fete competition every year.

She must be cheating they swore, how else could her garden always be so perfect when they never see her lift a finger, or to pull so much as a single weed? About time she got her comeuppance they chortled with glee at the thought, maybe this year someone else will stand a chance. The two Constables heard all about how too too perfect, and too too normal, the Dursleys were, and that made them all just too too freaky, in the eyes of their neighbours. Why they even said that during the winter, there was never any snow on their drive, no matter how deep it was on anyone else's. It was as if it some unseen magical force cleared it away.

Nevertheless, being too perfect, or too normal, or even just right down freaky, wasn't a crime. Moreover, since they hadn't been assigned to investigate Garden Fete competition for cheating allegations, the two Constables wrapped up their investigation. They returned to Number 6 to alleviate the concerns of the elderly neighbour, and to let her know that the young boy at Number 4 was quite alive, and quite well, other than being quite overweight for his height and age. The report had said 'starved' but the dispatcher must have gotten it backward. The boy was anything but starved, and they both agreed that if it hadn't been for how unpleasant the adults were, they probably would have let the remorseful boy off with just a stern warning and restitution. There was just something about those Dursleys that neither one of them liked, but they just couldn't quite put their finger on it.

As they approached the door of Number 6, the unusually spry elderly neighbour practically pounced on them.

"Mrs. Lestrange …" Constable Goodbody started out, backing away a safe distance from the screen door, as he spoke. He could still feel his nose slightly out of joint from earlier.

"Where?" Tonks asked looking furtively around for her aunt before she remembered she had used that name to call in the complaint. "Oh! Yeah right, Constables! That's me! Bella Lestrange. Sometimes I think I would forget my own name if it weren't printed on a nametag, and then I do! Tell me … did you remove the boy? Is he all right? I have been so concerned!"

"He is perfectly all right Ma'am. Of course, we can't disclose the details of our investigation, but we did want to allay any concerns you may have for his safety. Dudley Dursley is just fine."

"Dudley? That's his name? Dudley?"

"Um … yes Dudley," confirmed Bert after reviewing his notes. "My partner here talked to him in private, and other than being grossly overweight he is fine. Rather pampered I might add."

"Overweight? Pampered? And … _Dudley?_ The boy she saw certainly didn't _look_ like a _Dudley_, and he certainly wasn't overweight or pampered. Are you positive you went to the right house? A skinny little boy about eight with black hair?

"No … Dudley is a blonde boy of eleven. He is the only child in residence at Number 4. We searched the entire house from top to bottom, and confirmed it with the neighbours. But then … you being a neighbour and all … ought to know that already." The two Constables exchanged perplexed looks.

"Then you didn't search thoroughly enough!" Tonks admonished them, making use of every centimetre of her one and a half metre indignant frame to intimidate the two burley men.

"Isn't your motto 'to protect and to serve'? Now march right back over there and find him!" she finished with a flourish pointing back to Number 4.

"Ma'am? Are you sure this isn't just something else you forgot … like you did you name? Or maybe you've been watching too much telly and this is just something that you imagined? Perhaps we should have the Psychiatric Social Services call on you. We should come in and talk about it …"

"Oh no Constables, I'm quite all right, quite fine. You're right I must have just been a little mistaken, I guess." Tonks said trying to shield their sight from the empty house behind her. It wouldn't do for them to get too suspicious. If they did, she would have to use an _Obliviate_ spell on them, and then she could kiss her dream Auror job goodbye. "But are you really sure you looked _everywhere?_"

"Everywhere Ma'am. There is no sign of a second boy living in that house. No bedroom, no pictures, nothing. I searched the ground floor, the shed, and the basement, and my partner searched upstairs and talked with Dudley. I can assure you, if there had been a second child in that house we would have found him."

"Still, you _could_ have missed him. He is very small, and a trifle muddy."

"MUD! That's it!" Ern cried out. "It's been driving me crazy!"

"Blimey Ern, what are you going on about?"

'The mud. When we were at the Dursleys yesterday, there was this odd mud streak in the hall. It went clear through the kitchen from the back door, halfway down the hall, and then just stopped."

"What?"

"Well I thought it kind of odd, what with how immaculate the rest of the house was …" Ern said his voice trailing off when his partner just gave him a stony stare. "Just saying."

"Well cut it out," Bert replied. "I'm more interested in why Mrs. Lestrange here is living in an empty house that's for sale."

"Oh I'm not living in it." Tonks felt like kicking herself for forgetting about the 'For Sale or Let' sign in the front window.

"Oh?" Bert's eyebrows rose slightly.

"Er … no, just … um … house sitting. That's right house sitting, while it's on the market … er … for the owners don't you know?"

"House sitting?" Bert eyebrows rose even further. He was about to start questioning this odd elderly woman a bit more, when she abruptly cut him off.

"Well thank you officers for checking it out for me, so sorry to bother you. My mistake. Goodbye now."

Tonks hurriedly closed the door in their faces and then apparated back to the Ministry of Magic. If the muggle way wouldn't work, she would just have to bite the bullet and get magical help somehow. Even if the cost were her job, it would be well worth it.

She knew that little boy had to be in that house somewhere. So why didn't the constables find him?

It just didn't make sense.

However, she had promised that little boy to be his friend, and she would be.

No matter what.


	33. Constant Vigilance!

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Language and mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Friday afternoon through early evening, August 2nd, 1991

**Chapter 33 – Constant Vigilance!**

"But …"

"No Tonks."

"BUT …" Tonks placed both palms on Kingsley's desk and leaned in, trying to be as menacing as she could be, to try and make her point.

"NO TONKS!" Kingsley rose out of his chair and met her stance until they were practically nose-to-nose and glare-to-glare.

"_**BUT **__…"_

"_**TONKS!**_ _**I said NO.**_ And if you make me say it again I'm going to send out a memo that everyone is to start calling you by your given name." Kingsley threatened ominously.

"… but …"

"_**Nym-pha-dor-a**_." Kingsley very slowly enunciating every hated syllable, the steely glint in his eye proving to the young Auror that it was no idle threat.

"… _but I …"_

"Or do you prefer 'Nymph'?"

"You wouldn't!" Tonks gasped in total disbelief.

"Don't test me."

At the first sign that Tonks was starting to back down, Kingsley sat down and said tiredly, "You disappeared yesterday without a word. You didn't show up today until the day was almost over. I had over half of the Auror's out looking for you, and the other half searching the hospitals. So you my dear … _Nymphadora … _are on thin ice."

"If you would just _let me_ _**explain**_. _I want _…"

"And _**I want**_ all of your paperwork done before you leave today. _**I want**_ your seat glued to your chair. Paperwork is not the most glamorous part of the job. Hell, I hate it myself. But it is necessary, and you _**will **_do it. And you _**will**_ do it without another word. I don't want you going off on your own again, _**for any reason**_. You are _**not**_ ready, and I have other pressing concerns right now without adding looking for you to the list. Now, do the job I gave you to do, and _**nothing else**_ until it's done. That is a direct order. No excuses. I don't want to hear them. Got that?"

"Oh, I got it … _**boss**_."

Kingsley could tell she was still upset, for as she marched out of his cubicle, her hair was going through multicoloured changes without her even seeming to notice. But right now he really didn't have time for the out of control teenaged Auror. He was glad that Moody had seemed at odds with his latest retirement try and was willing to give her some much needed mentoring, which left him to concentrate on Dumbledore and the mystery of what had happened to Harry Potter. There was going to be a lot of flack to sort through when that news hit the Daily Prophet. He needed time to prepare.

"What a thick-headed … _(slam!) …. _dim-witted … _(bang!) …_ brainless … _(crash!) _… IDIOT!" Tonks voice carried over the cubicle walls into the cubicle of Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody.

"What's got you all worked up girl? You're making enough noise to drive away a Bogart." Mad-Eye growled without bothering to get up. No need to. With his magical blue eye, courtesy of one of his frequent battles, he could see through solid objects. Right now though, he didn't need to be able to see through the wall to know that Tonks was upset. The volume of noise coming over the wall was enough to verify it.

"Oh sorry Mad-Eye, I didn't realize you were there. Wait! You are there! _Why_ are you there? Aren't you retired?"

"Didn't agree with me."

"What? Wanted another retirement party with more punch and cake?" Tonks teased the Auror notorious for his distrust of any food or drink that he didn't know where it had originated.

Tonks' reward for the barb was stony silence from the other side of the wall.

"C'mon Mad-Eye, why are you really here?"

"Got bored. Got attacked. Finally decided if work was going to keep following me around, that I might as well get paid for it."

"Oh Merlin! Does that mean I'm out of a job? They hired me as your replacement! I was just in Kingsley's office … why didn't he tell me?"

"Don't fret girl, there is enough work to go around. And they thought you might need a little … now how was I supposed to put this? Merlin's pants! I'm not a baby sitter. If Kingsley wanted you coddled, he should have told you himself. It's no good pussy footing around it. You need more training girl. You're a walking disaster, and they're afraid you're going to put someone's eye out. They assigned me since I'm already missing one. You can't do me much more damage. Now tell me, what's got a bend in your wand?"

"Oh Mad-Eye! Maybe you can help. I just don't know what I should do!" Tonks scooted her chair around to his cubicle with her still sitting in it, which drew a quizzical look from Moody. "Sorry 'bout that … Kingsley told me to keep my seat glued to the chair until I have the paperwork done. Of course he didn't say the chair couldn't roll."

"Well now that you're here why don't you fill me in on a detail or two, and we'll see what we can figure out."

"Where do I start?" There was just so much that had happened over the last twenty-four hours.

"I always found the end was the best place to start."

"The end? Usually people say to start at the beginning."

"If you know so much why did you ask? But since you did ask … why bother with nonsense? The beginning and middle just clutter it up with details that don't matter. Just get to the point I always say."

"Okay … there is this muggle boy …"

"Hold it right there! You mean to tell me all the hullabaloo looking for you was over _A BOY_? _A MUGGLE BOY NO LESS? _They brought me out of my well deserved retirement to mentor you on _YOUR LOVE LIFE_! _**GET OUT OF MY CUBICLE!**_" Moody roared incensed.

"Fine, Moody! Cut me off! Don't listen to me either! Don't let me explain! Be that way! Don't listen to the pink haired girl! I'm leaving!" Tonks scooted her chair back around the wall, and dove into the pile of paperwork with a vengeance.

"I'll just deal with it on my own. I don't need their help. I'll figure out a way. I will …" Tonks muttered under her breath while she ploughed through report after report. It was almost dark by the time she had gotten to the bottom of the pile, and her head was swimming, but it was finally done and she could leave. Taking the stack of reports, she stalked back to Kingsley's cubicle to find him and Moody deep in discussion.

"Here you go … _**Boss**_," Tonks said with haughty distain. The scathing effect she was going for diminished when she missed Kingsley's inbox and the dropped pile of reports ended up on the floor. With a wave of his wand, Kingsley brought order to the jumble and they flew up and landed in a neat stack on the corner of his desk.

"Thank you Tonks. Don't forget there is a meeting tonight in Dumbledore's office. Now that you are an official member of the Order, you are welcome to stay and go with Moody and me."

"_**No**_ thanks _**Boss**_. _**I **_already _**have**_ a _**date**_," she said with emphasis as she left the two men staring at her back as she flounced out of the office.

"That one is just looking for trouble," Moody said dryly.

"So what do we do?" Kingsley said. "I'm out of ideas."

"Constant Vigilance." Moody replied as he got up to leave.

"Where are you off to Moody? I thought you were going to stay and go to the meeting with me."

"I have a date too," he said cryptically as his bright blue rolling eye watched the elevator doors close, swallowing up a very determined and unrepentant looking Tonks with flaming red hair.

As soon as she reached the London alley outside the Ministry, Tonks apparated to her flat, and started ransacking her medicine cabinet for anything that looked like it might be helpful. She jammed it all into a cloth bag that expanded to hold anything put in it.

"Merlin! I don't know if you can even use any of these potions on little muggle boys! And I don't have a clue what I'm doing. I know! Poppy! She is probably already back at Hogwarts getting ready for the next term!"

With a new plan already forming in her mind, Tonks quickly shoved a blanket and a couple of pillows into the cloth bag along with all the bandages she could find. Then turning on the spot, she apparated to Hogsmeade. The sun was starting to set as she headed up the hill as fast as she could to the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts.

"Poppy! Thank Merlin I found you!" Tonks gasped out of breath from running.

"Tonks! I thought you left school and was an Auror now. What are you doing here? Are you hurt?" Poppy the mediwitch hustled over, the ever present concern for the injured in her voice.

"No Poppy I'm fine, I just … I just need some help … with a muggle boy …" Tonks said in spurts as she tried to catch her breath.

"Oh my, getting serious are we? Are you sure you shouldn't be having this talk with Andromeda?"

"You and everybody else - _please let me finish!_" Tonks pleaded.

"Sorry Tonks, I just assumed …" Poppy started to Say but stopped when she saw the look of utter despair in Tonks eyes, "… and that was very wrong of me. I apologize. Go on, what can I help you with?"

"Finally! Someone who will listen! I need help with a muggle boy, a _little_ muggle boy. He's hurt and I don't know what to do to help him."

"Is he here? What are the injuries? How bad are they?" Poppy started pumping her for information going into full mediwitch mode.

"No, I'm not sure, and I don't know, and I haven't seen them."

"What? What do you mean you haven't seen them? If you haven't seen his injuries, how do you know he is hurt?"

"I just do Poppy, I just do. Can't you just believe me?"

"Of course!" Poppy answered without reservation. "But without knowing what is wrong, what do you expect me to do?"

"I just need to know if any of these potions can be used on a muggle." Tonks upended her bag on the nearest hospital bed. "I don't want to cause him any more harm than what's already been done to him."

"Well, let's see what you got here … my quite an assortment … hm … Skele-gro? … Do you think he has broken bones?"

"Probably. I am fairly certain that his hand is broken at least, if not a few others bones."

"Pepperup Potion? That's for colds … does he have a cold?"

"Not that I know of, but he was in the garden all night and it was rather damp."

"Blood-Replenishing Potion? Has he lost a lot of blood?"

"I would say that was a definite yes! He is so pale, at least what I could see of him under all that dirt."

"Bruise-healing paste?"

"I would say that was also a definite. I am sure that at least half of the dirt I saw was really bruises. I just couldn't get close enough to tell for sure. But still I think that is a definite need."

"Hm … Burn-healing paste?"

"Oh yes! There was a fire and he tried to reach in and pull something out. I am quite sure his hands are burned now."

"Wound-cleaning potion?"

"He had a lot of scars from what I could see and at least one large gash down his cheek. From the way he moved, I am almost certain he had other wounds I couldn't see."

"Essence of Murtlap?"

"In case the pastes won't work …"

"Strengthening Solution?"

"I thought it couldn't hurt …"

"And what's this? Gregory's Unctuous Unction Potion? Tonks! I thought you said this was a 'little' boy? Are you trying to pull one over on me? This potion has only one purpose, to persuade the drinker that the giver is his very best friend. Why would you possibly think this would be helpful to an injured little boy?"

"I just wanted him to trust me so he would let me help him, and I thought …"

"Tonks, Tonks, Tonks … I can see you have the best of intentions, but getting trust through potions is not the way, unless there is no other. Trust gained under false pretences turns into distrust later that can't be overcome. I would suggest you leave that one here. Now as for the others …"

Tonks looked on hopefully as Poppy sorted the potions and pastes into two piles. One large and one small.

"All right, the wound-cleaning potion should be harmless enough since it is used topically. The same goes for the Murtlap essence, bruise-healing paste, and the burn-healing paste. They all work better on magical folk as it helps to boost their magic to heal them faster, but there is no reason why any of them won't work on a muggle just as well as the muggle alternative would. But the other potions, those are another thing. I wouldn't risk giving them to a muggle, especially a child. If there are broken bones, we will just need to set them the muggle way and then wait for them to heal. Could you bring the child here?"

"I don't think so, I'm not even sure I can get close enough to him to actually help anyway. I just want to be prepared in case I can."

"What do you mean Tonks?"

"There are magical wards keeping me at a distance. When I first ran into them, I got quite a shock. The force threw me quite a distance."

"Are you all right?" Poppy asked whipping out her wand and casting a quick diagnosis spell over the girl.

"I'm fine Poppy, just bruised my pride more than anything else. However, to help the boy I have to figure out how to get past the wards."

"Funny you should mention something like that."

"Funny how?"

"Minerva, Hagrid, and I were talking about something similar just two nights ago. Minerva said that she had tried to visit a house but that the ministry had put wards around to keep out anyone magical unless they were invited in. Maybe these are similar."

"Invited in you say?" Tonks said filing the information away.

"That's what Minerva told me. But let's see if there is anything else that I have that you can take with you. Mind you though, if you can, bring him back here. I will help in any way I can."

"I know Poppy, that's why I came to you." Tonks gave her a hug as the mediwitch stuffed more bandages and pastes into the bag. "Thank you."

"Thank you for what? I haven't done anything."

"Oh yes you have! You listened."

"That's nothing. Now remember, call me if I can help."

"Will you be here all night?"

"I should be. Professor Dumbledore is having a large meeting tonight, and asked that I stay on hand in case it is traumatic for a few souls. Are you going to it?"

"No, I have a date." Tonks said with a knowing nod to the bag full of medical supplies. "I told him I would come back, and I am not going to stand him up. I have a feeling he's had enough people let him down already. I'm not going to be one more."

"Ah, your little muggle boy. Bring him back here if you can. If I'm not here, floo call me at the Headmaster's. He will know where I am and I'll come right back."

"Thanks Poppy, I will." Tonks gave her one last hug before heading out the door with a backwards wave.

Hurrying back down the hill in the gathering dusk, Tonks only tripped twice. The last time just as she reached the nearest apparition point outside the front gates. With a sigh, she rubbed her skinned knee and gathered up the spilt contents of her cloth bag.

"Here goes nothing," she said hopefully as she disapparated on her self-appointed mission.

"Oh I wouldn't say that Tonks, I think you are quite something." Mad-Eye Moody said thoughtfully as he stepped out of the shadows and bent down to pick up a stray jar of bruise-healing paste and a roll of bandages.

"Just what that something is, I'm not sure, but you are definitely something. And if you think this date is going to bring on cuts and bruises, then I think you need a chaperone. Good thing I put that tracking spell on you."

"Constant Vigilance!" Moody declared raising his fist to the starry night sky and with a crack of displaced air followed the pink haired girl.


	34. What the hell?

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Dedication: this chapter dedicated to 'Dark Jack' who was hoping a little romance would be thrown in. I am not so good at romance so I apologize in advance.

Warnings: Language and mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Friday evening, August 2nd, 1991

**Chapter 34 – What the hell?**

'_Drip.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drriiiippppp!'_

'_Plop.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drriiiippppp!'_

'_Plop.'_

'_What the hell?"_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drriiiippppp!'_

'_Plop.'_

'_Gods! Make it stop!"_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drriiiippppp!'_

'_Plop.'_

Remus Lupin tried to blink his eyes open, but they seemed to be glued shut, or maybe someone had taped them closed. Either way they weren't going to open without help. Reaching up, he felt around until he finally found his face, and rubbing the crusty sleep out of his eyes, he decided that maybe keeping them closed wasn't such a bad idea after all.

'_Drip.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drriiiippppp!'_

'_Plop.'_

'_Why do I feel like I've been run over by a hippogriff? Was I? Oh yeah … that's right … the last thing I remember is being at the Leaky Cauldron trying to get the picture of those grinning goblins out of my head. Was that last night? Or was it the day before? Or was it last week? Hell! I have no idea what day it is. Is it even day?'_

His head was pounding. He could feel each individual throbbing eyelash. Even his eyelids hurt, as if they had been peeled back and turned inside out.

'_Drip.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drriiiippppp!'_

'_Plop.'_

'_ARRRGHH! It has to be some sort of insidious torture device. I must be a prisoner of Death Eaters, or that Umbridge witch who's made it her personal mission to make my life as miserable as she possibly can … by all the Gods - as if it can get any worse. Whatever that sound is … it's going to drive me mental if it keeps up much longer.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drriiiippppp!'_

'_Plop.'_

Forcing his eyes open, he tried to in vain to make them focus, but what he was seeing wasn't making any sense. Hell! His head hurt and his mouth tasted of mothballs, and just where in Merlin's name was he? All he could see was planks a few feet above his face, and with the exception of the one hand he had managed to move to rub his eyes with, the rest of his limbs seemed immobilized.

'_Drip.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drriiiippppp!'_

'_Plop.'_

'_Gods! Did someone hit me with the body-bind curse? Did someone bury me alive? Am I in a coffin? Did the goblins do away with me after all? Am I dead? Is this hell?' _

His breathing was starting to escalate to the point where he was in danger of hyperventilating.

'_Drip.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drriiiippppp!'_

'_Plop.'_

'_Wait Lupin … calm down … you're not dead … dead would never feel this bad, and if you are buried alive, breathing fast will kill you all that much sooner. And if you aren't buried alive, then it would just be silly to panic over nothing.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drriiiippppp!'_

'_Plop.'_

Concentrating on the planks, the grain of the wood finally came into focus, along with what looked to be multicoloured blobs of dried gunk.

'_What the hell is that?'_ He wondered idly as he reached up to flick at particularly large blue blob. It dislodged and dropped to his cheek and stuck. _'Eeww! Yuck! Is that gum? Okay gum is usually not part of a coffin. That means I am not buried alive, must be under a table used by slobs … but where? Am I still at the Leaky Cauldron? Did I get so plastered that I drunk myself under the table? Wonder why Tom didn't kick me out …' _

Brushing the offending blob off his check Remus gave moving his limbs one more go and found he could - painful though it was.

'_I haven't felt this bad since the last full moon.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drriiiippppp!'_

'_Plop.'_

Rolling out from underneath the table, he managed to get on his hands and knees and look around. He was in his own place, and he was alone.

'_Guess I don't have anyone to blame my condition on but myself. Wait a minute … yes I do … I can blame this all on Albus.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drriiiippppp!'_

'_Plop.'_

Prying himself up off the floor, Remus sat down at the kitchen table he had previously been lying under. He then picked up the only bottle of firewhiskey on the table that wasn't already empty, and drained it in one gulp. He was still shaking a bit from his foray into the depths of Gringotts. The whole episode had been so bizarre. Several times, he was sure that the little goblins were about to feed him to the dragons rumoured to be in the lower levels. He was glad to be out of there safely and back in his own place, even if it was just a poorly furnished London rental.

'_Drip.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drip.'_

'_Drriiiippppp!'_

'_Plop.'_

"AHA! Ouch! Note to self - never scream 'Aha' out loud when you have a hangover." Remus muttered as he went over and wrenched the tap on the kitchen sink to stop the incessant dripping. A relived sigh escaped his lips at the blessed silence.

"I never thought this place would look so good to me!" he laughed dryly looking around at the broken appliances and peeling paint. Everything was dingy, dented, or in disrepair. Even the chair he sat down on wobbled. However, with little funds it was the best he could get. He used to 'fix up' the places he rented with magic, but lately he figured, why bother? He was rarely in one place long enough to make it worthwhile.

When Dolores Umbridge enacted the Werewolf Registry, most werewolves either fled the country or went into hiding. But Remus? No, not him. He registered with the damn department in the hopes that by doing so, it might allow him to stay available to be part of Harry's life, and maybe someday be a family. _'Well that didn't work out did it?'_ he scoffed.

Now in a few weeks it would be a full moon again, and the neighbours would complain about the howling and strange noises coming from his apartment. Without being able to give a proper explanation to the landlord, he'd have to move again.

'_As if a proper explanation would change anything,'_ he snorted. If he did explain, he would just be thrown out all the sooner, if the landlord was of the wizarding world, or hunted down and attacked by a hoard of hysterical muggles, if they were not. Either way he would be moving again. Such was his life as a werewolf. What would happen would happen. Right now, he had other more pressing matters about which to worry.

Thinking about his trip to Gringotts Remus knew he would never again be able to look at a goblin without seeing the macabre grinning faces of Ragnok and Griphook, framed by the vault doorway as they blocked his exit. A shudder passed through him. Gods he wanted another drink - badly. Instead, he poured the thick cold semi-liquid out of the bottom of the coffee pot and took a large swallow.

As his hands finally started to steady, he picked up the copies of the documents from the Potter vault and started studying them again. He wished he had the original with the actual blood on it, instead of just the copy, but the goblins had that securely locked back up under their control. In the depths of Gringotts, he had been certain that the scent of the blood was familiar but now studying the copy, he was less positive of his memory. It could have just been his imagination. It was certainly possible since his imagination had been running wild. God knows it had reason to have been.

Damn that Albus.

He read and reread the large single page document over and over, but each time it left him even more puzzled. Why in the world would James Potter have a document like this in his vault? It was obviously centuries old, the ink on the delicate parchment was old and faded, and the wording archaic, but it wasn't the age of the document that made it odd, as the Potter line went back centuries, what was odd was the nature of the document itself. It seemed to be a slavery contract in repayment for a life debt. Moreover, it was not just any slavery contract, it was one pledging a life of servitude of a firstborn son in payment, and the terms described in the contract were downright barbaric.

Remus couldn't see where any Potter would have ever, even in a passing moment of weakness, have agreed to condemn their firstborn son to a life of slavery in payment for their own debt, or for that matter accept it as payment from another if the debt were to be owed to them. It just didn't make sense that the document was anywhere near the Potter vault, and why would it have '_one blanket, one book, and __2,500 pounds'_ written across the bottom in muggle ink? For that matter, why would muggle ink be on a centuries old document to begin with? Surely, the contract was illegal anyway. The Wizarding world had abolished slavery off the statues hundreds of years ago - it no longer existed.

The longer he stared at the brownish smudges the more they looked like childish hieroglyphics. He had no idea what they were supposed to signify. However, he felt that same sense of familiarity again, the same feeling that he had felt deep inside Gringotts when he first opened the ornate box and smelled blood. He knew without a doubt that the glyphs on the original document were in blood, the scent was unmistakable to a werewolf. Nevertheless, why would the scent seem so familiar? It couldn't possibly have been Potter blood. However, seeing as where he found the document, who else's could it have been?

James and Lily would have died before they would have given up little Harry and there were no other Potter children. James himself had been an only child and his father certainly hadn't sold him into slavery, and the same could be said for James' father and grandfather. Any farther back than three generations and the muggle ink couldn't possibly be there, it was blue fountain pen ink, the type that only became popular with muggles in the mid 1950's and later. Remus couldn't think of any possible way the blood could have been from any recent Potter, and yet, he had the greatest sense of fear that somehow it was.

Remus put the document down and started thumbing through the copy he had made of the muggle accounting ledger from the box. It made even less sense than the contract did, and the two together made such an incongruous pair. While the contract was very old, the ledger was very new. It dated from the end of July of this year then going back almost ten years to the earliest entry dated November second of nineteen eighty-one. It was the same period of time when little Harry was supposed to be safely growing up under the loving guardianship of his aunt and uncle. From the date, the ledger couldn't have been in the vault more than two days. That settled it – the blood had to have been recent too.

Flipping back to the first page, he noticed it had the word _'FREAK'_ written across it. Well he had to agree with that, it certainly was a freaky ledger, after all, who would bother tracking pennies here and a shilling there in such minute painstaking detail? Dropping it on the table Remus put his head in his hands and sighed. It kept coming back to the same questions. What were the items doing in the vault? Why were the goblins so bent on him finding it? And what the hell did they mean?

Picking back up both documents, he returned them to the duplicate of the ornate box he had made, and closed the lid. Letting out a long sigh he sat in his depressing one room flat holding it, staring, wishing it would talk to him and give him the answers he so desperately wanted. He felt he had the answer right there in his hands if he could just decipher the code. He was getting no closer to puzzling it out.

Damn that Albus.

Tiredly closing his eyes against the glare of the light coming in from the streetlight outside his dirty window, he realized finally that it was night, but now to figure out which night it was. Albus had called a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix for Friday at midnight. He may have missed it already because of his drinking binge, but he hoped not. That was one meeting at which he intended to be. Albus had a lot of explaining to do. Just what the hell these documents were - was just one of them.

Food - he should get food. Then he would probably feel better. He suddenly realized he was starving, it must have been days since had eaten a meal.

Shrinking the box with the documents, he shoved it in his pocket and left the flat. He didn't even bother to check for food in what he knew without looking were empty cupboards. Making his way down the steep staircase, he stepped out onto Tottenham Court Road. After first starting to head toward Charing Cross and back to the Leaky Cauldron, Remus had second thoughts, did an abrupt about face, and slipped into a Muggle café instead. The Leaky Cauldron was not a good idea when he needed to clear his head. The café was about to close, so his entrance at the late hour earned him a stony glare from the waitress who was wiping down the counter in the otherwise vacant room. Ignoring the look, he took a seat in a booth near the door where he could exit quickly if need be.

"Name's Mabel, I'll be your waitress this evening. What'll it be?" The waitress monotoned, dropping a greasy menu on the tabletop in front of her customer. She knew she should have locked the door ten minutes ago.

Remus ordered a couple of burgers with chips, a pot of strong black coffee, and a newspaper. In his travels since leaving school, he had picked up an addiction to the bitter drink, and it was the best thing he could think of to help him clear his head short of brewing a potion, which granted would be ten times more effective, but sadly, he couldn't afford the costly ingredients needed to brew it.

'_Is this what my life has come to? Drinking bad coffee alone to kill a hangover_?' He wondered as he ran his hands through his grey-flecked hair.

The visit to the Potter vault had reminded him acutely of what he had lost when the Dark Lord murdered the Potters. The Fidelius Charm that failed to protect his pack was the idea of Albus Dumbledore, and not only had he lost James and Lily because the protection scheme failed, he also lost his other two best friends as well.

In the aftermath of the Potter's murder, Sirius Black had been accused of betraying the Potters location as their secret keeper, and then of killing Peter Pettigrew in an attempt to shift the blame for their deaths. Remus could never believe Sirius had betrayed James - they were closer than brothers were. James' family had even taken Sirius in when his parents had disowned him. It was just one more thing in his life that just didn't make sense. Nevertheless, making sense or not, the result was the same. James, Lily and Peter were all dead, and Sirius as good as dead in Azkaban for their murders.

All he had left of his pack was little Harry. Now, thanks to Dumbledore, he was gone too. No family left and no prospect of one in the future. With his support system of childhood friends gone, and being too self-effacing to attempt a new relationship on his own, the only way he was ever going to have a family now was if one somehow miraculously dropped in his lap. He was fated to be alone the rest of his life.

Damn that Albus.

'_Hm … the date on the paper is Friday, August second. Well at least I haven't missed the meeting, but I did drink my way through the rest of yesterday and most of today. Don't know what I was thinking - I usually don't drink that much.' _

Closing his eyes, the image of the grinning goblins floated back into his mind like a nightmare that just wouldn't end, causing his eyes to fly open again. However, this time instead of goblins, he saw what he could only describe as a vision. A vision of a pixie, only not one of those devilish blue Cornish pixies but a Welsh woodland pixie, only a human sized one with long shapely legs instead of one centimetre tall with wings. In addition, instead of flitting daintily about as pixies do, this one was running full tilt into the café. Flushed and slightly out of breath, she had a very determined look on her pale heart shaped face. The pixie promptly tripped over her feet and landed in the lap of a very surprised Remus, with her arms thrown around his neck to stop herself from crashing to the floor.

"Oops! Wotcher! Sorry about that!" the vision declared with a friendly disarming smile.

"Um … um … ahem … and 'Wotcher' back at you." Remus said gazing into the captivating dark sparkling eyes of the cutest darn pink haired pixie he had ever laid eyes on.

"Here are your burgers. Can I get you two lovebirds anything else?" Mabel asked assuming they were together as she placed the steaming platter of hamburgers and chips on the greasy table.

"Um … no … I think I have everything … I want." Remus said absentmindedly not able to take his eyes off the pretty young thing still perched lightly on his lap. "How about you … ah … Miss …? Do you want anything?"

"I … oh … I …OH!"

Remus immediately regretted asking her when the pixie jumping up as she realized she was still sitting very comfortably in the lap of a perfect stranger, with her arms around his neck, staring back into his pale brown eyes.

"I'm so sorry to … er … drop in on you like that! Are you okay? I didn't mean to be so clumsy!"

"I'm fine. Not a problem at all … not at all. Glad I could be of service." Remus replied a little disappointed at her sudden departure from his lap.

"Well, thanks for the catch then!" she smiled back at him as she hurried after Mabel to place her order, only to turn back away from the counter with a glum look.

"Too late. Grill's closed. No burgers left. You got the last ones," she explained with a shrug of her shoulders at Remus' quizzical look.

"I have an extra. And I am more than willing to share," Remus said hopeful of continuing the conversation and indicated the platter of burgers on his table.

'_What the hell am I doing? She's half my age and probably a muggle! There's no way she would ever be interested in a middle-aged wizard werewolf.'_

"Really? You don't mind?" the pixie asked with an adorable little tilt to her head.

"No really, it's quite all right. Help yourself," Remus assured her.

"Great!" Swooping down greedily on the food, she scooped it up, platter and all, and then leaned over and gave him a swift thank you peck on the cheek.

"Thanks! Gotta go now. Got a hot date!" With a cheery wave, she flashed one more brilliant smile and disappeared out the door onto Tottenham Court Road.

"What the hell just happened?" Remus asked touching his cheek where she had kissed him. Then shaking himself out of the trance she had caused, he realized what she had done.

"My burgers! She took them both! Wait!" Running outside after her, he saw her duck into an alley. Following on her heels, he rounded the corner just in time to see a dark blurred shadow of a largish man disapparate not twenty meters from where the girl was standing rearranging things in the cloth bag she was carrying, and then duck quickly out of sight behind a dumpster before she could look up.

As Remus watched, the girl picked up the large platter of food she had swiped from him and shoved the whole thing in her small bag, and then pulled out a wand.

'_She's a witch!'_ Remus' jaw dropped open in amazement. _'And I think she's picked up a tail. I wonder if that is why she was in such a hurry … hm … she may need a hand. That could be a Death Eater watching her.'_ Remus hurried into the alley to warn her.

"Excuse me Miss, did you know …" Remus reached out and touched her elbow just as she started to apparate.

Tonks swung around, startled that her victim had followed her out of the restaurant. "Oh pox!" she swore as she finished apparating, with a small _'crack'_ sounding in the air where she used to be.

Almost immediately, a second _'crack'_ sounded leaving the alley empty.

Remus lost his tenuous hold on the girl just before she disapparated at the end of her jump through space. When he came out of the apparation and got his bearings, he found himself in the midst of a very muggle suburb. Quickly taking cover by stepping into the shadows behind a tree, he took time to glance about, looking for Death Eater traps. By the glow of the streetlights, he could see a street sign proclaiming the street he was on to be Privet Drive, but other than the name, there was nothing to distinguish it from any of the other nearby streets. The entire neighbourhood seemed made up of identical houses. Only the large numbers on the front of them made them at all unique. From his vantage point behind the tree, he spied his pink haired pixie leaning out of a second story window of an apparently deserted house, oblivious to the threat of the dark sinister hulking shape that had followed her. A threat that was at that very minute lumbering up the front walk.

He had to do something quickly to rescue his clueless damsel in distress, but he didn't know what he was up against, or exactly where he was. He was without backup, and without any way to call for help. Hearing a car approaching he was relieved to see that it was a muggle police cruiser patrolling the neighbourhood.

'_Just the thing! Backup! Muggle backup, but backup nonetheless.' _Stepping out of the shadows, he thanked the gods that he was wearing his suit instead of his wizard robes, and that the strong coffee had sobered him up.

"Constables!" he hailed the cruiser.

"What can we help you with Sir?" one of the policemen asked rolling down the window.

"Ah … I was just out for an evening stroll, and I believe I noticed someone trying to break into the house across the way." Remus indicated the house with the large number '6' on the front. "Right there! You can just see him in the shadows on the porch!"

"Thank you Sir! We'll take care of this. Best stay back. Don't want any civilians getting hurt. Had a lot of vandals in this neighbourhood lately and it could get nasty."

"Come on Ern! We have a perpetrator to apprehend."

"Right you are Bert, let's get him."

Remus watched as the two burley policemen stopped the man and hustled him into the back of their cruiser, speeding off with lights flashing. He had been standing at the ready to help the policemen out with a few well-placed magical spells, just in case the man was a Death Eater and reacted badly to muggle interference. He was too far away to get a look at who the man was, but he was a bit surprised that the only resisting he did over his arrest was a little blustering.

"What the hell? This night is full of surprises," Remus mused as he glanced back up at the second story window only to find that a snowy white owl had replaced his pink pixie on the ledge, and his pixie was no longer in sight.

"Oh well. At least she is safe for now from whoever was stalking her," Remus told himself with a bit of regret.

He wondered what the cute young witch was doing in the middle of the night in a deserted house in a very muggle neighbourhood with and owl and his dinner. She had said she had a hot date and with a pang of jealously, an emotion that he hadn't felt for years, he hoped that the would-be suitor was the 'burglar' the police had just hauled off. Idly he wondered if she would like company for dinner if she were being stood up. After all, he reasoned, it _was_ his dinner she had nabbed.

However, wondering would have to wait, now that he had rescued her he really had no excuse to hang around any longer, besides the meeting was about to start.

'_Just when it was getting interesting,'_ he thought as he apparated to Hogsmeade, wondering if he would ever have the chance to meet up with his pink haired pixie again.

Damn that Albus.


	35. Date with an Angel

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Language and mention of extreme child abuse, refers to abuse of a sexual nature. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Friday midnight August 2nd, 1991 through early morning hours Saturday August 3rd, 1991

**Chapter 35 – Date with an Angel**

Peering intently towards the tall Ash tree in the back garden of the house next door, Tonks stopped what she was doing and wondered, _'Hm … where is she? She's got to be here somewhere …'_

"AHA! Found it!"

Feeling around in her cloth bag, she triumphantly pulled out the object of her search. After leaving Poppy at Hogwarts, she had impulsively made several quick stops on her way to Surrey to add to her supplies. In addition to the bag of _'Raptor Rodent Roll-ups'_, she also bought some muggle children's medicine, a bottle of milk, and 'acquired' a hamburger dinner for two from a café.

Ripping open the small bag of owl treats, she leaned precariously out of the upstairs bedroom window of Number 6 Privet Drive. Step one of her plan was about to commence. Make friends with the attack owl.

"Hey Snnnnooooowy? Wheeerre are yoooouuuu? I have owwwlllll treats! Cooomme and get 'emmm!" Tonks leaned out the window as far as she could while waving the treats in the direction of the tree. "Thhheeyyyy'rreee goooood! Yuuuummm! Mouse flavoured and everything!"

"Ah come on Snowy! Snowy? Drat! Where is that owl?"

Her whole plan hinged on the elusive owl. She knew the little boy trusted the owl and that they had a bond. She figured if the owl trusted her … well then … so would the boy. If she could just get the owl to cooperate, and she couldn't find a way through the wards herself, then she could entreat the owl to take the medications and food to him for her. However, before she could get the owl to trust her she had to find it.

In stark comparison to the brightly lit starry night in Hogsmeade, here in Surrey it was dark and overcast. The clouds obscuring the light the stars would have otherwise provided, and making the night air muggy and dense. It was into this dense night that Tonks peered. The darkness causing her to lean farther and farther out the window in an effort to spot the white owl, when in a déjà vu moment, she felt herself slipping. Before she knew it, she was again in the flowerbed below, rubbing her shin and clutching her cloth bag, along with what remained of the now only half-full bag of treats, the rest littering the windowsill above her.

'_First my ankle, then my knee, and now my shin. Good thing I'm a witch and can do a cushioning charm on the way down or I'd be in St. Mungo's inside a week. Put someone's eye out my foot, put my own eye out is more like it,'_ she thought ruefully as she got up, dusted herself off, and straightened her skirt. _'If I hang out here much longer I think I'll bring a mattress to land on."_

Tonks hobbled across the dry grass and weeds. She had just sat down near the fence to nurse her hurts, when a bright beacon of light started scanning the area. She quickly flattened herself against the fence to avoid detection by the beam, silently berating herself that someone almost caught her less than a half hour into her mission.

'_What is it Mad-Eye Moody keeps saying? Oh right … Constant Vigilance! Well, no one caught me, but that was just by sheer dumb luck. Some Auror I am. Shackleford and Moody are right and I do need more training. I'm going to have to up my game if I'm not going to be one of those low calibre employees the toad is out to fire. I bet it was those muggle policemen checking up on the place - they said they were on the lookout for vandals in the area.' _Tonks thought as the beamtravelled within millimetres of where she was hiding, before moving onto the front porch of the house and stopping. Apparently, the light had found an alternate target, as Tonks could hear the Constables addressing someone over their bullhorn.

"Stop where you are sir, this is the Police! _Hey Bert … what you make of that weird eye?"_

"Watch it Ern! He's going for something concealed up his sleeve, might be a weapon."

"Sir, I said stop! Put your hands in the air!"

'_Whew! That was close!' _Tonks chuckled. _'If I didn't know better I would almost think it was Mad-Eye Moody they were describing. However, the police wouldn't have ever caught him, as they almost did me. Ha! He'd never even be in the middle of a muggle neighbourhood without an invisibility cloak, or at the very least a good disillusionment charm in place.'_

As she waited, the police cruiser pulled away from the curb, carrying away the suspect in the back seat for further questioning.

'_Imagine! Someone else trying to break into the same house I broke into this morning. All I can say is it's a small world and a large break for me. Whoever that bloke was, he did me a favour. Now the Police will lay off this area while I have a look-see around for that owl.'_

"Okay Snowy I know you are around here somewhere. Now that we are alone, come out and make friends like a nice birdie!"

'_Hoooottt'_

Tonks whipped around looking for the source of the sound to find the large snowy white owl perched on the very windowsill from which she had just toppled. The owl was serenely eating the spilled owl treats with a slightly smug look on her feathered face.

"There you are!"

'_Hoooottt … where else would I be?' _Hedwig thought to herself as she looked down on the witch. '_I never left, unlike others not worth mentioning.'_

"Don't give me that look Snowy. I want to be friends … and I have moooorrre owwwllll treats." Tonks waved the bag temptingly to lure the big bird down.

'_Hoooottt … Hoooottt … well I am a little hungry … the only food the large fat human put out was poisoned. As if I would fall for that!' _Hedwig acquiesced as she floated down in a graceful arc to land on Tonks shoulder. _'Hoooottt … I do like a nice fresh treat. Besides, you did come back … I suppose I could give you one more chance.'_

"Ah, there we go Snowy! Such a pretty bird you are. Yes, you are, and you know it too. My, you are a hungry bird aren't you?" Tonks crooned as she fed the large ravenous bird the remaining treats one by one.

"Now Snowy … how would you like to help me make friends with the little muggle boy?" Tonks slipped into her prattle as she fed the owl the last treat.

'_**Hoooottt!'**_ An indignant Hedwig gave the witch a sharp nip to her ear and a painful squeeze to her shoulder with her powerful talons. Then she took off in a feathered huff for the Ash tree.

'_Muggle boy? Did that witch say MUGGLE boy? I am the familiar of the Boy-who-lived! Not a MUGGLE boy! My owlet may be just a small wizard but he is NO MUGGLE!' _Hedwig landed on the limb and turned an amber-eyed reproachful glare down on the startled witch.

"What just happened Snowy? I thought we were getting along so well. What did I do?" Tonks called up in frustration, rubbing her shoulder where the sharp talons had left indents in her skin. If she had been the type to stomp her foot and throw a hissy fit, she would have at this point, as her nerves were wearing thin. It had been a long day yesterday, a long night the night before, and an even longer day today, leaving Tonks functioning on very little sleep.

Now she was out of owl treats, and had not won the bird over.

This was not going as planned.

Not at all.

'_**BANG' **_

The sound of the screen door of the house at Number 4 slamming open immediately diverted Tonks attention. She couldn't see what was happening any better than the night before, but from the instant alertness of the white owl, she knew the little boy was back. Moreover, from the grunting sounds that followed, she surmised he was not alone.

Scrunching down to peer through the same small knothole she had found previously, she watched as the florid faced Vernon Dursley forced the small black haired boy out into the garden, stopping only to retrieve some tools from the shed. Dursley then proceeded to drag the boy by the chain attached to a band around his neck, around the side of the house and toward the front garden. The little boy stumbled along behind him, but was doing his best to stay on his feet and keep up.

Tonks wondered momentarily why the owl hadn't gone into her normal attack mode upon seeing Dursley abusing the boy. Then the streetlamp caused a flash along the long barrel of the shotgun Dursley had brought along for protection. No wonder the bird was keeping her distance! Tonks, always willing to learn by a wise example, decided to follow suit and kept hidden too. Vernon growled at the boy in a very low and quiet tone as he towed him along behind, but straining her ears Tonks could make out bits of what he was saying as he passed by.

"Damn birds … can't even go into my own garden now. You're responsible for all of this … you hear me freak? Worthless waste of space … nothing but a burden … CPS … Dudley … your fault. You'll pay for it … filthy freak … just you wait … tomorrow night … teach you a lesson … won't just be the belt. Marge will be leaving … then you're mine … Sunday … useless piece of trash … teach you a lesson … make sure you won't forget it this time … have you begging for it … finally going to get my moneys' worth …"

Tonks stealthily moved along with them towards the front garden. Once there she found it easier to see, as the fence separating the front gardens near the road was lower and made of chain link. Crouching down low, she carefully wiggled under the cover of a large, if somewhat thorny, quince bush that spanned both sides of the fence. Her eyes narrowed and her eyebrows pulled into a frown as she watched through the parted branches.

She could see the boy hanging his head and nodding in mute agreement to everything Dursley said. Dursley yanked on the chain one last time as he attached it to a stake spiralled into the middle of the garden. Then thrusting the tools in the boy's hands he retreated back into the house. A few final instructions hissed over his shoulder as he was leaving.

"Only five hours. You know the rules. No food unless all the chores are finished. If you know what's good for you I better not hear a single sound - I need my sleep. Moreover, none of the neighbours had better see you tonight. I'm sure one of them must have thought they caught a glimpse to bring the Constables down on us like that. You better pray it doesn't happen again, and don't even think about trying to get off that chain. There will be hell to pay if you do."

Tonks fumed indignantly. She knew Dursley's intent was to go inside to a comfy bed and sleep while the little boy worked through the night alone in the garden. She wanted the boy to yell and scream, to protest even just a little, but he just meekly started to work in the flowerbeds in the same docile manner he had the night before. From his total resignation to his chores, she knew this wasn't the first time. It had probably been going on for months, if not years.

Working close to the ground and dressed all in baggy black rags, with his black hair and dirty face, making not even a whisper of a sound, the boy blended into the dark of the starless night. If she had just been passing by and hadn't known he was there, she would have just thought he was a shadow in the corner of her eye. The constables had told her that none of the neighbours knew that any child, other than a blond boy of eleven, lived in the house. She knew he was there, and still, even she had a hard time seeing him. It was as if he didn't really exist. No wonder none of the neighbours had ever noticed him.

Boy was just grateful that he had hidden his treasures away under the loose floorboard before Master had opened the door to his little cupboard that night. He didn't even want to think of what would have happen if Master found out the book and blanket hadn't been totally destroyed, and were again his own. He wasn't sure how that was possible when Master said that he no longer owned anything, and Master had taken them all away. However somehow, Cousin had found a way to give them back and Boy was not about to foolishly question the only good fortune that had ever come his way.

As he started to work pulling weeds, he sighed a little. He would be so much faster if his broken hand wasn't so painful, and if his shoulder wasn't still swollen and throbbing. Trying to look on the bright side, he told himself that he was grateful his sprained ankle was feeling better. He was also relieved that his friends were safely out of sight, along with his tattered blanket and his father's broken glasses. To his treasure trove, he had also added two owl tail feathers that he'd picked up from the ground the night before, one pure white and one luminous silver - by which to remember his two feathered friends. Thinking about his friends, he silently vowed that he would do whatever he had to do to protect them and to keep them safe. He would do whatever Master wanted, so Master would be pleased with him, and his friends would never be in danger again.

'_Hoooottt … Hoooottt …'_

Boy looked up from his toils as the snowy owl landed with an elegant flutter of wings on the ground nearby. She was carrying another freshly killed mouse and looking at her owlet with a loving expression in her golden amber eyes.

"Hedwig! You're still here! I am so glad. I wa-wasn't sure you would stay," he said softly patting her feathers.

'_Hoooottt … silly owlet … why wouldn't I stay? Where else would I go when you are here? A good familiar is always nearby, and if I do say so myself, I am one of the very best there is. The giant man said I wasn't needed anymore - how wrong he was!' _ Hedwig looked almost haughty as she started to dismantle his dinner with her beak.

"Thank you very much for the mouse," Boy whispered as he took the offered bits and started to eat. "Have you seen Mercury?"

Hedwig tucked her head under her wing, which Boy interpreted correctly to mean that she had not seen the stately gray owl. Sitting back on his heels as he nibbled Boy sighed.

"I am so worried about him Hedwig. I hope he's okay."

'_Hoooottt …' _Hedwig quietly echoed his sentiment. She was also worried about Mercury, if he had escaped uninjured, he should have returned with reinforcements by now. However, her duty to protect her owlet came first and overshadowed her desire to fly off and look for the other owl. _'Hoooottt …'_

"Thank you again for the food. I am getting quite used to the taste of raw mouse. And … and thank you - thank you for not … for not leaving me. It is nice to know I have at least one friend here." Boy hiccupped with emotion as he threw his arms around the large white owl in a heartfelt hug, wincing with pain as his body protested the sudden movement.

'_**Hoooottt…' **_Hedwig stared at her owlet in dismay. He was still hurting from where the large fat human had shot him. She had hoped that the humans had done the right thing by her owlet and had healed his wounds while he was inside the square nest. However, she could see that that was not the case. Peering at her owlet more intently, Hedwig could see that the humans hadn't tended to any of his wounds. If anything, they had multiplied_._

'_Hoooottt! Bad humans! And they think they are the superior species! Owls would never do that to one of their own, but my owlet is a wizard and needs a human to help him. Mercury hasn't brought help … so whom can I get? The brainless witch next door? Maybe … she did come back … and she does seem to want to help even if she is a bit clumsy. She would be better than no one … maybe she can be useful after all. Hoooottt.' _

Tonks watched from her hiding place on the other side of the chain link fence, as the large white owl tenderly mothered the little boy, and the boy reciprocated by gently patting his feathered friend. For a moment, Tonks thought that she saw a pale blue aura surrounding the devoted pair, but when she blinked and looked again it was gone.

"I must be more tired than I thought," she yawned tiredly, dismissing it as a trick of the dim light from the streetlamps.

'_Too bad step one of my plan didn't work. It certainly would have made step two a lot easier,' _Tonks thought regretfully. _ 'Well … time isn't going to stand still while I think about what I did wrong, so on to step two - see if I can get the little boy to trust me enough to get me past the wards.'_

"Wotcher little one! It's Tonks here! See, I told you I'd come back." Tonks called out softly to the little boy trying not to scare him.

Step two of her plan was to find a way in past the magical wards. She had been thinking about what Poppy had mentioned about the unusual wards Minerva had described, and she was placing her hopes that these wards worked in a similar fashion. If they did, and she could get the little boy to trust her, he might be able to invite her in himself. It was worth a try, besides it was the only thing she could think of. If that didn't work, she knew she might as well scrap step three in her plan entirely. There was no way possible to even start step three, heal the little boy, if neither step one or two worked. She had no step four, five, or even six for that matter, and there hadn't been time to work on a Plan B. She was just going to have to be persistent and make Plan A work. That's all there was to it.

Boy instinctively dove for cover the instant he heard the lilting voice. The nearest hiding place was within the large quince bush at the fence line. It was in the same direction that the voice had come from, but he couldn't help that. It would have to do as all his other hiding places were farther away.

In the blink of an eye, Boy tucked and rolled under the sweeping branches of the quince and scooted as far into the safety of its thorny depths as he could. Hedwig followed closely behind, not about to let her owlet out of her sight. Boy winced as he huddled with his back pressed against the fence, the rough metal chain link not being kind to the tender flesh beneath the thin material of the threadbare sweatshirt. He caught his breath and held it as he listened carefully for the voice. He thought he had been fast enough that the person belonging to the voice couldn't have seen him. He knew that he hadn't been visible from the street, but then how did the voice know he was there to call to him?

Tonks couldn't believe her luck. It was a dark night, and even darker in the centre of the bush, but there he was. She could see the little boy pressed against the fence just centimetres from her with the large white owl snuggled against his side, all three of them taking refuge in the same quince bush. With his back towards her, and huddled down as he was into a small ball with his head buried in his knees, she doubted that he realized how close she was. Thankfully, the owl was not alerting him to the fact.

However, the snowy owl had turned her head around almost backward on her neck and was staring Tonks down with a luminous _'this is your last chance so don't blow it'_ glare.

Reaching out a tentative fingertip towards the fence line, Tonks could feel the energy stream of the wards quicken as her finger drew nearer the boundary. As the boy was actually touching the metal fence, she knew he would get the brunt of the jolt if she continued, so she settled back down on her heels. So close and yet so far! Only the chain link fence and the pulsating field of the magical wards kept her from sweeping the little boy up in her arms and taking him directly to Poppy.

Murmuring quietly under her breath, so as not to alert the little boy to her presence, Tonks cast a disillusionment charm on herself. It was an extremely useful spell, especially for an Auror, but not an extremely comfortable one. Tonks grimaced at the sensation - it felt like a flood of cold goo slithering down from the top of her head all the way down to the tips of her toes, causing her to shiver with goosebumps in the warm evening air. Certain now that the boy would not be able to see her, she started whispering softly in his ear. She hated lying to him, but after all, it was for his own good.

"Hey little one, now don't be worried," Tonks said soothingly. He reminded her of an injured rabbit caught in a snare. She would have to be careful to not startle and panic him. "I know you aren't supposed to be seen. I heard what that man told you. Now look around. You don't see _me _do you?"

Boy froze in panic as Tonks started whispering. She sounded so close! However, Hedwig didn't seem concerned or alarmed. Slowly raising his head, he cautiously looked all around him as ordered, to the right, to the left, even behind him. He didn't see anything other than the fence, branches, leaves, and the little unripe quince fruit clinging to the undersides of the prickly limbs.

Boy shook his head no. '_Where is she? Maybe she isn't really here after all … maybe she didn't come'_, he thought disappointed. It could have been just his imagination, but he would almost swear he could feel her breath on his neck. However, that was impossible! If she was that close he would see her … wouldn't he?

"There now! I was right wasn't I? Now … do you remember what I told you last night? If _you_ can't see _me _… that means that _I_ can't see _you_. Stands to reason, doesn't it? Ergo, you're not disobeying any of those man's horrid rules are you?" Tonks just prayed that since it wasn't that long ago that she was a kid herself … well to be honest she still was … that she still knew how a child's mind worked and could appeal to him on his own level.

"_Hoooottt …'_ Hedwig encouraged her owlet to agree.

Boy tentatively nodded, it did make sense to his childish logic, and Hedwig agreed with the voice too. In addition, the collar, his constant reminder to follow the rules, didn't seem to be contradicting the theory either.

"Ah … I knew we would get along! I know - I know, I'm a little crazy at times but that just makes me all the more loveable," Tonks smiled extremely pleased with herself.

"Now don't be scared. I'm really not _very_ crazy or really all that frightening … that is of course unless you work with me. My co-workers all seem to be plenty frightened and think I'm plenty crazy. 'A walking disaster' Mad-Eye said … as if! I'm not that bad! I do more damage to myself than to anyone else. Do you think I'm that bad? No, don't answer that right now, I'm not sure I want to know. However, we do need to work on that … you know what I mean … you being the strong silent type … all the silent nods and head shaking instead of using words bit. Now don't get me wrong, I like that in a man … well sometimes … but right now I think 'chatty' would be preferable."

The non-stop prattle reassured Boy that the voice definitely belonged to Tonks.

"How was it that awful man said that again? Hm … last night he said 'not a sound'. Well I admit that is pretty clear. It would seem there is not much wiggle room for debate … _**but **_… tonight he said … and I quote…_ '__**I**__ better not hear a single sound'. _Seems to me he changed that little rule a tad for tonight. Made it something we can work with now, didn't he?"

Boy's jaw dropped open in shock. He'd never thought of it that way. However, he had whispered to Hedwig so quietly that Master didn't hear him and the collar hadn't punished him. That was proof that Tonks was right. Boy tentatively nodded in agreement to the utter delight of the friendly voice in his ear.

"So why don't we start with something simple, okay?"

Boy nodded silently again. Tonks hadn't really asked a question that required him to speak yet, and he was still a little uncertain about the change in the rule. However, The Family had changed the rules before without telling him, so it wasn't without precedence. Only it was usually not to his benefit when they did so, it was always to be stricter not more lenient, and it usually meant more punishment not less. Nevertheless, there was always a first time for everything.

"You know that is some intelligent owl you've got there," Tonks praised, thinking the owl would be a safe non-threatening subject with which to start. The boy obviously loved the bird very much, and little boys always like to talk about their pets, especially if you show your appreciation for them. "I've been calling her Snowy, because she is so white … like snow, ha ha … _'Snow White' _… get it? Like the fairy tale? No? Um okay … well … surely you gave her a name. What do you call her?"

There it was …

Finally …

A direct question he had to answer, one for which he couldn't avoid using his voice.

"He-Hed-Hedwig, M-Mi-Miss," Boy stuttered out cautiously, his voice rusty from disuse. He took a deep breath, relieved when the collar didn't punish him for answering the question.

Boy wasn't really sure what to call Tonks but he knew he wasn't allowed to be so familiar with his betters as to just call her by her name. So he settled on the respectful title of 'Miss', the term Master had told him to use to refer to Master's sister Marge.

"Hedwig? Well that is a much better name than 'Snowy', and it fits her really well. Did you know that Hedwig was the name of a very famous and very beautiful sorceress many centuries ago? No? Well I could be wrong about that, it's been a while since I read _A History of Magic,_ and I mostly slept through Professor Binn's class. However, but I am almost certain of it."

Boy was relieved. Miss Tonks hadn't asked him any more direct questions that sounded like she was requiring an answer.

"Okay, you know my name - Tonks, and we know your owl's name - Hedwig, but I don't know your name. So tell me … what's your name?" Tonks asked in a very casual friendly way, completely unaware of the sudden terror that her simple question struck into the heart of the little boy she was trying to befriend.

'_Noooooo! Not that! Anything but that! If I tell her, she will go away because she won't want to be my friend anymore. She'll know what I am if I tell her my name! Wait a minute … she didn't ask for my last name … did she? Just my name? Maybe it would be all right if I just told her my first name and not my horrid new last name. My first name is bad enough.' _

Boy wished with all his heart Miss Tonks hadn't asked the question at all, but she had. Moreover, it was a direct question, and the rule about direct questions was that he had to answer all direct questions promptly and respectfully without lying. He didn't see where the rule exempted him from answering questions posed to him by invisible people. No a direct question, was a direct question, no matter who asked it. He had to answer. He didn't have a choice.

"My n-name is F-F-Freak … Miss," Boy whispered so quietly Tonks wasn't sure at first if he had even answered.

"Freak?" Tonks was flabbergasted. She had heard both of the Dursley's call him a freak when they were yelling at him, but that couldn't possibly be his name! 'Freak' wasn't a name at all. It was a label. One meant only to diminish. No parent would name a baby anything that nasty. Well her mother had named her Nymphadora, a name she truly hated, but in comparison to 'Freak', her mother had been unusually kind. 'Freak' couldn't possibly be the little boy's name … could it?

Tonks observed as the little boy just hugged his knees tighter to his chest and if possible made himself into an even smaller ball, silently testifying to the accuracy of his answer. Boy cringed at her gasp and then confirmed that she heard correctly by nodding silently. He steeled himself for the unseen Tonks to start beating him, as he was certain from the sound she made that she was displeased with the answer.

"Well that won't do at all. I can't call you that!" Tonks sighed. Maybe he had a last name that would d_o _instead_, _after all she preferred to be called by her last name instead of her first, and his last name had got to be better than 'Freak'.

"There must be something else … do they call you by any other name?" Tonks asked gently, a little leery of what the answer might be. She hated to keep probing when he was obviously distressed, but surely, the kid had to have a _real_ _name_ not just that appalling label to go by! Knowing his real name would help her connect with him.

Boy wanted to cry. Of all the questions that she could have asked him, she was two for two of the top three questions he would have preferred to avoid. He had told her his awful first name and still she wasn't satisfied. She had asked him another direct question, another question he didn't want to answer, but had too. If she didn't approve of his first name, she would really not approve of his last. Was she going to keep asking questions until she knew _everything_?

But then again … she hadn't actually asked for his _last_ name, just if they called him anything else, and they did. The Family called him lots of things, so he just nodded again and hoped that would end it.

It didn't.

"Well? What is it? Tell me," Tonks gently prompted for him to answer.

"B-b-'boy', or-or 'it', or 'id-idiot' … M-M-Miss," trembled the small voice, stuttering more with each word. Surely just the normal ones The Family called him every day would be okay, wouldn't it? Miss Tonks wouldn't really want him to list every awful thing they called him, would she? There were so many, and each one worst than the next!

"MERLIN! NO!"

"I'm … I'm sorry …" Boy softly whispered as the tears finally started to spill out. He didn't know who Merlin was. All he knew was that now he had displeased two invisible people by not listing out all of the terrible things that the Family called him. There was nothing he could do about it now but take the beating he was sure was coming.

"Oh little one … you have absolutely nothing to be sorry about! However, I can't really call you any of those 'names' either, and I use the term loosely. It would just be … _soooooo wrong_… on soooooo many levels!"

Boy didn't understand what Tonks meant, how could it be wrong? Those were all names that Master called him. Master had even carved them into his skin. He did that each time he gave him a new name, just to make sure he always knew what he was. Did he do something wrong? Was that it? Was that why she just kept asking him questions? So that she could torment and ridicule him as The Family did?

It was obvious to Tonks that the little boy was humiliated by confiding to her the horrible names. 'Boy' was the least onerous of all of them, but even that was clearly a name used in hate. She sighed. There was no way that she would ever call him any of them. What to do now?

She just had to kidnap him tonight and get him away from the Dursley's forever. She would hide him in the wizarding world where the muggles would never find him. Her Mum and Dad had mentioned almost adopting a baby, maybe they would be willing to be foster parents to her little friend. They had pointed out how empty the house felt since she had moved into her own flat. Therefore, they had the room - since hers was empty. In addition, since her father was muggle-born, he would know what to do so the little boy would feel welcome and not out of place among wizards. Moreover, despite her lack of talent in picking out names for children, Tonks couldn't imagine any more loving a mother than her own. Even Andromeda would have done a better job of naming little one than the horrid people he lived with now. In fact, she could give her mother the pleasure of naming the little boy something much better than 'Freak'. Her parents would be the absolutely perfect solution!

"How about I just keep calling you 'little one' for now until we find you a better name, would you like that? Er … about all this 'Miss' business … it makes me sound old and stodgy … just call me Tonks, okay?"

Boy hesitated, he couldn't agree to that! To be so familiar with his betters was against the rules, he had to call her Miss Tonks, but at the same time, he gratefully agreed to her name for him. Miss Tonks was his better could call him anything she wanted - he didn't have a choice in that either. Wiping his grimy sleeve across his eyes after he nodded, he ducked his head again trying to hide from his invisible companion. Boy was amazed. She knew! She knew the truth. She knew he was a freak, and she hadn't hit him and she hadn't left. She wasn't even going to call him by any of those awful names! She sounded so kind every time she called him 'little one' that it made him feel warm and happy inside. She even used the same caring tone of voice that his friends in the Hundred Acre Wood used when they called him Christopher Robin. That was one outcome he had never imagined possible. But then … she still didn't know his biggest secrets - that he was a murderer, a whore, and a slave. If she were to find that out any of those secrets, she wouldn't waste any more of her time on him.

Tonks didn't want to push the little boy too far too fast, but still she needed to work quickly to gain his full confidence. The night was only so long, and Dursley had given a time limit of five hours. How to proceed from here with step two? She had thought a simple question, like asking his name, would get them started on the right foot, but that almost backfired big time and just caused him to shrink up more inside himself. Maybe if he could see her he would feel more comfortable. Before the night was over, they were going to have to get to that point anyway. It was the only way she was going to be able to tend to his wounds without scaring him to death. However, how could she do it so he wouldn't think he was in trouble or breaking a rule?

Crawling out from under the Quince bush, Tonks stood up and ended the disillusionment charm, shuddering a bit as the charm oozed off in a trickling of warmth as it left. Taking off the charm was much better than putting it on, even though the sensation tickled and always made her laugh. It was just that it was not terribly dignified for an Auror to laugh every time they shed a disguise, Tonks thought as she stifled a giggle.

"Now don't be scared little one, it's just me - Tonks, in the flesh. I thought that now that we knew each other a little better you might like to see what I looked like. But, don't worry okay? I still can't see you. You are hiding very well," she reassured him as she did a pirouette under the streetlight so he could look at her from all sides.

Boy thought Miss Tonks was very pretty, just as pretty as Hedwig, and like no one that he had ever seen before. The only females he had ever seen in real life were Ma'am and Miss, and Miss only when she was sleeping on the couch snoring. Ma'am was tall and thin, and looked somewhat like the horse that was in the picture of Cousin at the riding stable, while Miss looked just like Master … even down to having a small moustache. He didn't know that females could look so … so … so much like something for which he didn't even have words.

'_Well at least I didn't scare him this time.'_ Tonks thought with satisfaction. If the lack of the quince bush quivering was anything to go by, than she had made the right move to reveal herself. Now all she needed to do was to draw him back out. Last night just talking had helped. At least she thought it had. Last night he wouldn't talk back to the point where she had almost concluded that he was mute, only his scream when Dursley lit the fire dispelled that belief. Tonight at least she had convinced him to talk … a little. Therefore, she decided she would try that approach again for a few minutes and see where it got her.

Moving to the sidewalk in front of the house Tonks sat down cross-legged where the little boy would have a clear view of her, in the centre of the rose covered arbour that marked the entryway to the garden. She started talking about the first thing she could think of which might interest a little boy, even a muggle boy … flying! She started with her adventures of first learning how to ride a broomstick, and then moved on to the euphoria she felt playing on her house's Quidditch team, describing in detail some of the more exciting moves and games.

Boy hadn't really even dared to hope that Miss Tonks would back. After all, who in their right mind would want to be friends with him? Oh that's right, she said she was a little crazy didn't she? However, as he listened to Miss Tonks ramble on, he became increasingly unsure what to do about it. If she kept talking as she did the night before, it would create a problem for him.

Last night she hadn't come until he had finally finished readying the back flowerbeds for Ma'am's garden show. Tonight he had to complete the entire front garden in just a few hours. He had barely gotten started when Miss Tonks came. Master had ordered him not to be seen, and also to finish on time. With Miss Tonks sitting prominently in the middle of the gateway into the garden, how could he possibly do both? If he went back to work, he would have to leave the safety of the quince and she would see him, and if he didn't, he had no hope of finishing in time.

Boy didn't know what to do. He desperately wanted Miss Tonks to stay and he wanted to be brave enough to make friends with her, as Piglet would if he was here. Piglet had said that sometimes you had to be braver than your size. Boy knew that he was small, he would have to be to fit in the cupboard, but he wasn't sure if he could be brave. Being brave might be against the rules. He hadn't ever heard Master make a rule specifically against being brave. However, that was probably only because Master hadn't thought to mention it yet.

But then again … Master _hadn't _mentioned it.

yet …

"… so would it be alright with you - of course if it isn't alright that is okay too, it is complete up to you. I'll understand either way, and I won't if you say no, of course if you say no - I can't anyway. I _wouldn't _anyway… even if I could, if you say no, because a friend wouldn't you know - do it anyway if you said no. Anyway, if it is okay with you, I would really love it if I could come into your garden and see it close up. It's obvious you take really good care of it. It's quite beautiful. However, I could admire it better if I could come in. So would that be okay with you?" Tonks asked hopefully, breaking into his train of thought.

'_What?' _Boy thought confused. Miss Tonks lost him not even half way through her rambling question. She wanted something from him. He just didn't know what it was. He felt as stupid as Master always said he was. Would Miss Tonks go away if she found out how stupid he was? However, wordy and incoherent as the question was, it did finally end in a direct question. He just didn't know how to answer it, so he kept silent. As the collar started to tighten at his disrespect, he started to panic.

"So what do you say little one? Is it okay with you if I come in and look at your garden? Just for … a _few_ minutes? I'll be gone before the man comes back. I promise."

'_That's not really a lie … I don't intend that either of us will be here when that creep Dursley wakes up. 'Course it may take a little bit longer than a few minutes …'_

Boy was relieved to find out she just wanted to admire the garden. That should be okay, after all that is why Ma'am was having him do all this work - so people would admire it. Ma'am loves it when people admire her garden. Normally they came during the day, but he thought the garden was more beautiful at night. From the stolen glimpses he had gotten of the garden's vibrant colours he had no doubt that it was glorious in the daytime too, but as the sun set, the garden took on a whole different quality. As the light dimmed, the scents of the flowers, diluted by the sun's harsh temperatures, became heady perfumes in the cooler night air. The only problem he had with Miss Tonks' request was that before The Family had been the only ones ever to invite anyone into the garden. Was it okay for him to do it too? Did he even have the right to do so? He didn't have the right to do anything else unless specifically told he could, so he just didn't know. Racking his brain, he ran down the list of rules to think if there were any specifically against him doing so.

"What do you think I should do?" Boy croaked hoarsely to Hedwig as the collar continued to tighten with his reluctance to answer the direct question.

'_Hoooottt,'_ Hedwig nuzzled him with her head encouragingly.

Hedwig thought her owlet should at least give the witch a chance to help. The owl treats she had brought were nice and fresh - a sign of her good intentions. Hedwig felt a little guilty that she hadn't saved a few for her owlet. However, she had been so hungry after standing guard all day she just couldn't help herself.

'_Hoooottt … the witch brought treats for me. Maybe she brought something for you too. She might be able to help you against the fat man, where I can't.' _

Tonks waited patiently, sitting under the arbour while the little boy debated her request. She only wished she knew if she had gotten the attack owl on her side or not. She had seen Hedwig hiding in the quince next to the boy, and she knew the Owl's influence would be the deciding factor if the boy ultimately decided to trust her or not. Tonks held her breath as she heard a rustle of leaves and feathers. Hedwig suddenly flew out of the bush to land on the walk behind her. She knew something was happening, but was too afraid to move or to turn around, for fear it would break the delicate enchantment.

Tonks leaned forward and tentatively reached out with both hands, fingers spread, to feel the energy pulsating off the wards. She could see the energy effervesce and crackle millimetres from her outstretched palms, as if it the static electricity were a sentient being standing guard at the gate. Her hair started blowing around her heart shaped face, caught up in the breeze created by build-up of the energy barrier, the mellow glow of the streetlight behind her enhancing it into a halo effect. Hedwig gave her final approval by stretching out her wings behind Tonks and hooting softly. Boy held his breath at the angelic silhouette.

Miss …Tonks … she-she wasn't a person! She _was_ an angel! A real life angel! She looked just like all the little porcelain figurines that Ma'am decorated with at Christmastime - the ones of which he had to be careful when he dusted. Ma'am had told him that angels weren't of this earth. She said that they were sacred beings, and only came to bless beautiful things. She told him he was so ugly and vile that she was sure he was going straight to hell and would never see one. Yet here was one of them … a beautiful winged ethereal creature and she wanted to come into Ma'am's garden to bless it.

No longer able to speak because of the choking collar, Boy tentatively nodded his head in consent for her to enter. Miss Tonks couldn't possibly see the hesitant invitation as hidden as he was, but that was all that he could do, it was a brave as he got. Yet he had faith, that as an angel, she would somehow know he gave it.

He reasoned that if Miss Tonks came into the garden, she would be happy, and she did promise it would only be for a few minutes, and then she would go away. After she left, he could get back to his chores, and if he worked very hard, he might even still be able to finish them all before Master got up. Besides, Ma'am's garden would be sure to win a prize on Saturday if an angel blessed it. Ma'am loved angels, but she loved winning more. Ma'am would probably be angry with him if he didn't let Miss Tonks in as it would give her an advantage over her opponents.

As boy extended the silent invitation, the wards grew momentarily visible as they enveloped the angel in the arbour, lighting her up in the bright glow. Tonks could feel the power tingling around her as they surrounded her, pulling her through the opening like a vortex.

She was in!

Whew!

"Brilliant! Who'd have thought moving one meter would be so darn difficult, or take so long? You'd have thought it took me the better part of two months to get to this point instead of two days. Then, in the end, it took only two seconds," Tonks muttered to herself as she stood up and looked about the garden.

Now that Tonks was actually in the garden, she could see where it was rigid and pruned to within a hairbreadth of a razor-sharp edge, but if you liked that in a garden, it was top notch. She supposed it was lovely, but what she didn't like about it she thought darkly, was that most of it, if not all, was thanks to one little eight-year-old boy. Tonks narrowed her eyes and scowled fiercely toward where the Dursleys were asleep in their beds.

"Okay Tonks, first things first … test the magic." After what she experienced the night before, with her spells bouncing off the wards, Tonks wasn't about to take any chances with casting magic spells around the little boy before she knew just how it would react within the wards. "Something simple … hm … let me think …"

"_Muffliato_," Tonks murmured discreetly, turning her back to where she knew the boy was hiding so he wouldn't see her casting the anti-eavesdropping charm. She thought it was a good one to start with, just in case Vernon Dursley was a light sleeper. Pausing to check the results, she was relieved. "Good! No backlash there, so magic _does_ work within the wards. Okay on to step three."

'_Step three is healing the little boy. Hm … to do that, I need to get him to come out of that quince bush. I suppose I could use an 'Accio' spell and just make him come out … but that might scare him seeing as he is determined not to be seen. On the other hand, I could put him in a deep sleep first … no I need him awake to tell me what hurts. I suppose I could use a body-bind curse and then float him out of the bush with a hover charm … no that would be as bad as 'Accio'. That would only make him not trust me again. Besides, the Muggle Protection Laws prohibit me from casting any spells on him, or in front of him where he can see. It would be best to get him to come out on his own, and with Hedwig on my side, I just might have a shot. Let's see if I can do something to lure him out … too bad Poppy kept the Gregory's Unctuous Unction Potion … still think that was a good idea …' _

"Wow! This is a really nice garden little one, but a little on the 'Dark Side' if you ask me. And well … I'm a 'Light Side' girl myself … ha ha! Get it? Dark Side vs. Light Side … you know … Come to the Light Side, who needs biscuits when you've got butterbeer? No? Hm … guess you gotta be a wizard to get that one … that's okay." Tonks rambled on, not really expecting an answer as she started to wander aimlessly around the garden. "But I digress. I think I'll lighten it up a bit. I don't hear you disagreeing, so I'll just go ahead if that's okay with you …"

'_Please be quiet!' _Boy pleaded silently with Miss Tonks, unaware of what a _'Muffliato'_ spell was, or that it was protecting him from Master's wrath.

"I still don't hear anything, so I'll just pretend you said yes," Tonks said merrily. "I would just love some fairy lights. They would give your garden that certain 'je ne sais quoi' quality. Um … would you do me a favour and close your eyes for a minute?"

That wasn't a hard request at all! Both of Boy's eyes had been tightly closed ever since he saw the glow envelope her at the arbour. He was sure that she must have gotten burned by fire the way his book and blanket had, and he had been afraid to open them ever since. If she had been hurt, it would all be his fault.

Tonks prayed that the little muggle boy was following her directions, and was keeping his eyes closed, while she waved her wand over her head in a circular motion and cast a _'faery lumos'_ charm. A sprinkling of tiny lights came out of the tip of her wand, spreading out across the garden suspended in mid air like a cloud of fireflies. One tiny twinkling light sped into the quince bush and landed on Boy's nose. At the ticklish touch, his eye flew open wide in panic and he found himself looking cross-eyed at a tiny luminous creature.

'_OH NO! WHAT DID I DO?'_

He had let the angel into the garden, and now not only was Miss Tonks in the garden … '_AND SHE DID NOT SEEM TO BE LEAVING AS SHE PROMISED SHE WOULD' …_ now there were tiny little glowing winged things _EVERYWHERE! _ To make matters worse, one of them was sitting on the end of his nose sticking its tiny tongue out at him! He was not sure but he was fairly certain that he had just made a _BIG_ mistake! The little living lights were_ NOT NORMAL_ and Master would not be pleased _IN THE LEAST_ and Ma'am would be livid! Neither of them liked anything out of place, and things were definitely as far out of place as he had ever seen them. In addition, the night was only getting shorter and he had hardly gotten any weeding done at all! What was he going to do? He really thought Miss Tonks would leave as soon as she looked around and blessed the garden. He did not think she would wreck havoc and invite others in! Master was always saying he was too stupid to be allowed to think. Master was right. How was he supposed to get rid of them now? If he shouted loud enough for them to all hear him ask them to go away, he would wake Master, and he couldn't chase them away without being seen. This night was sure to end badly. What was he going to do?

"Hey little one, you know it would be a lot more fun if you would come out and show me around …" Tonks invited brightly. "No? Well, that's okay …"

'_For now,'_ Tonks muttered under her breath.

Boy sighed in relief. That wasn't really a direct question, or even a direct order to do something, and by hesitating to respond, Miss Tonks had given up. Perhaps she would go away now on her own. He didn't really want her too, but it was for the best. He was really ready to stop trying to be brave. Besides, he had work to do.

"Anyway little one, I think I could help you out here. That is, if you'd like me too. Then we would have the rest of the night to get to know each other better. I think that would be nice …"

'_NO! That would definitely not be NICE! She said she would only come in for a few minutes, and now she is talking about staying THE REST OF THE NIGHT! I am going to be in so much trouble with Master!' _Boy batted at the tiny lights flickering around his head that were multiplying by the minute, while Hedwig tried to catch a particularly pesky one in her beak.

"No comment little one? Okay, I'll just take that as a yes then. Well now that we have a little light, I can see what needs to done. Let's see now … a little weeding here, a little pruning there. And … oh yes … we should perk up those hydrangeas along the walk. Do you still have those eyes closed tight little one? Yes?"

Boy only wished he could say it was true, but it wasn't. With a swish and flick, and a well placed _'Orchideous'_ charm, he saw a rainbow of light arched out the end of her wand and the garden tasks miraculously started doing themselves.

"It's … m-m-magic! It IS! It's REAL!" Boy breathed as the weeds started disappearing before his very wide-open eyes. The brown hydrangea blossoms regained their blue and purple hues as the broken stems straightened and mended, while the fairies darted here and there, fluffing flowers and arranging leaves until everything glistened. The fairies even darted into the back and side gardens making sure everything looked its best.

The Spirit of the Garden swelled with pride and vanity at all the primping, causing a faint blue glow to rise out of the ground that coaxed even the dormant spring bulbs to reappear, and the fall asters to burst into blossom early. Bearing trees and bushes were now boasting both blossom and fruit. Splashes of bright yellow, orange and scarlet leaves, burst out among the deep green ones of the shade trees, as if large multicoloured butterflies adorned them. The dainty heads of Snowdrops and crocus peeked above ground to see what was going on. While winter blooming pansies turned up their laughing faces to watch as the fairies polish the holly and japonica berries to a glorious red.

Within minutes, the garden was breathtakingly beautiful. Gone were the stiff unyielding pruned edges, replaced by soft gentle waves of grasses and flowers. Nature had burst forth in all her glory. Spring, summer, autumn, and winter, all vied to outdo each other. A veritable riot of incongruent seasons displayed with the grace of carefree abandon.

In the centre of the garden danced the creator of all this unnatural chaos, one very mischievous Tonks. Caught up in the moment, she was apparating from spot to spot, twirling on her toes and laughing until she was dizzy. Tonks called out gleefully, "I _can_ be graceful! It just takes the right company. You must bring out my inner muse!"

Unaware that he was even moving, the irresistible pull of the magic bubbling all around him drew Boy out into the garden so that he could see all the wonders bursting forth around him.

"Oh there you are!" Tonks laughed out teasingly, pleased as punch that her plan was starting to work. However, her glee quickly turned to dismay when she saw Boy's eyes fly open wide with sheer terror laced with pain.

'_Wait … what colour were his eyes? Were they really green?'_

Perhaps because everything else about him was black, his hair and his clothes, Tonks had just assumed his eyes were also dark brown or black. The flash of brilliant colour caught her off guard and started to tickle a memory, but she shrugged it off. It had been too quick to be sure, besides now she needed to figure out what she had done to scare him.

'_Oh Merlin! That's right! Dursley's damn rules! He thinks he broke one of them.'_

Boy choked as the silver collar started to tighten in punishment as he dove back into the bush, the thorns tearing more holes in his already ragged clothes in his haste.

'_No! What have I done?_ _ I didn't mean to! I didn't mean to be seen! Please! It was an accident!' _ He pleaded with the collar in his mind as he desperately fought for breath.

"Little one? Little one? Where did you go? I didn't see you. Really, I didn't … I was … just … um … _guessing_! Yeah … that was it … I was just _guessing_ that you were there," Tonks said lamely, trying to think quickly on her feet and undo the damage she had obviously caused him. '_Damn! This is going to take longer than I hoped.'_

"It's okay … I know you aren't supposed to be seen, I heard what Vernon Dursley told you. Really, it's okay … little one? Are you okay?"

'_She really hadn't seen him?'_ Boy didn't see how that could be the truth, but angels don't lie … do they? Ma'am said they didn't, and he had to believe everything Ma'am said, Master had a rule that said so. He sighed with relief as the collar started to loosen and he could breathe again.

"Hey little one, the garden looks really spiffy now. So how about we have some dinner? I brought burgers … with the works! Dursley _did_ say you could eat dinner." Tonks said alluringly to the quaking quince as the snowy owl landed approvingly on her shoulder._ "_Okay, he didn't actually say 'dinner' per se, he just that there would be no food until it was all done. It's all done now, but we certainly don't want to disturb the Dursley's beauty sleep to clarify because, goodness knows they need it. Therefore, we'll just go with my interpretation. That's good enough for me, if it's good enough for you …"

'_Hoooottt _…_ I knew it! She did bring food for my owlet! Mouse might be good for owls, and better than nothing for wizard owlets, but not the best - he needs real wizard food.'_ Hedwig nipped the pink haired witch's ear lightly in thanks.

'_Hoooottt _…_' _Hedwig called out to her owlet encouragingly, '_Hoooottt.'_ However, after his last scare, Boy flatly refused to budge or be tricked again. Finally giving up, the snowy owl flew back into the bush to keep him company in his refuge.

"Okay I guess we do this the hard way … _again_," Tonks sighed.

She hadn't thought step three would have been as nearly as hard as step one and two. She prided herself on being naturally friendly, and had never had a problem making friends and gaining trust. Therefore, she didn't think that was the issue. It had to be those damn orders that horrible Vernon Dursley had barked out. She would have to figure out how to overcome the 'can't been seen' rule if she was going to help him. She had no hope of treating his hurts, or trying to heal him if he wouldn't let her see him.

"Let's see … what to do … what to do?"

'_Okay first I could turn back out the lights. Then maybe little one won't feel so exposed.'_

"Fairies, I want to thank you for all your help. I do so appreciate it - you've been lovely," Tonks called out politely before inconspicuously casting a _'Faery Nox' _with her wand, causing all the tiny sprites to scatter to the winds.

"Now, I don't know about you, but I am famished! All that gardening was a lot of work. I heard Dursley say 'no food until it's all done' and I do believe we have met that criteria. After all, he didn't specify _who_ had to do it … just that it had to be done. Now that it is - it's time for a picnic!"

Pulling out a thick blanket from her cloth bag, Tonks spread it on the ground in front of the quince bush and then pulled out a couple of fluffy pillows to sit on for good measure. Settling herself down on one of them, she proceeded to pulled out the platter with the burgers and chips. Next, she pulled out the bottle of milk, then a couple of apples she had snagged out of the fruit bowl in her kitchen, along with a set of mugs and plates she had shoved in at the last minute.

"Drat! Forgot the ketchup! Can't have chips without ketchup - must get some. I hate to keep asking this, but could you close your eyes again, and don't open them again until I tell you too … okay? You know this would be much easier if you were a wizard."

'_But I am … at least Kanga says I am …' _Boy thought puzzled as he sat there with his eye squished closed as ordered. Of course, Kanga was imaginary and Miss Tonks was not, so Miss Tonks was probably right and he wasn't one. It was all very confusing. The only time he knew for sure what he was, was when Master told him what to believe. Master was always most definite about it. He was never confusing at all. Master's description of what he was never wavered one iota. He always knew what he was in Master's eyes. He was a nothing, and it just wasn't possible to be confused about nothing.

"_Accio condiment!"_ Tonks pointed her wand at the house and called out the spell expecting the bottle to come flying into her hand. "Hm … no ketchup cometh. That's a bummer. Let's try that again … _ACCIO CONDIMENT!" _she said casting the spell with greater force.

Tonks was startled to hear several loud crashes, as windows of three nearby houses shattered when ketchup bottles flew through the closed panes, to land on the picnic blanket. At one house, a burglar alarm started sounding shrilly into the quiet night.

"Oops! I guess I don't know my own strength!" she grinned to her hidden companion before casting a _'Silencio' _charm on the alarm, and scattering several _'Reparo_' spells at the broken windows. "Ah, it does make me wonder though … doesn't the Dursley's have any ketchup? I wonder why their bottle didn't come too. Theirs was the one I was aiming for. Don't you think it is interesting that the wards seem only to go one way? I couldn't send any spells in last night, but tonight I sure did send some out. Hm … gives one pause to wonder what is so special about those Dursley's … those wards working that way … makes it kind of like a magical fortress doesn't it?" Tonks scowled and her eyes narrowed. "I wonder what else these wards do that I don't know about …"

The quince started quivering again making her realize the little boy was misinterpreting her disapproval. "Oh well, that's neither here nor there," she shrugged off the mood, and cast a quick charm to warm the burgers back up. "Let's not go worrying about the Dursley's condiments right now. Not when we have a nice picnic dinner for two, right here in front of us! So open up those big eyes of yours now and see what all we have to feast on!"

After dividing up the platter of burgers and chips, and adding an apple to each plate, Tonks whacked the bottom of one of the bottles of ketchup until a large dollop of the thick tomato sauce oozed onto each pile of chips. She then shoved one of the plates just far enough off the blanket to barely brush the outer edge of the quince bush. Tonks then poured a large mug of milk, which she heavily laced with muggle children's medicine, and placed it down next to the plate.

"Now all the food on this plate, and this mug of milk, is just for you little one. It belongs only to you. It is yours to eat it all if you want it. It doesn't belong to anyone else," she said carefully making sure that he knew without a doubt that it was okay if he ate the food. She didn't want him to think that he would be stealing it if he did. From everything else that she had observed and in taking in how small and skinny that he was, she was sure Dursley probably had given him a rule about eating and against stealing food too.

'_Technically, I'm lying to little one about this too. That nice man with the lovely blue eyes had just said he had an extra burger he was willing to share, not that I could take both them plus his chips. But what the hell,' she smirked. 'I needed them both, and what is he going to do about it anyway? It's not like I'll ever see him again.'_

"Yumm! This is one juicy burger, and the chips - crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, and dripping with ketchup! Just the way I like them." Tonks went on to describe to the little boy each bite as she ate it all the while keeping a sharp eye on the second plate.

'_It's probably a little mean of me not to push it all the way into the bush, but he's got to start trusting me again sometime, and food is as good place as any to start. Especially if that old saying hold true - that the fastest way to a man's heart is through his stomach. That should apply to little boys too. If he is hungry enough, he'll come around before too long,' _Tonks speculated as she thoughtfully chewed a bite of her burger.

Just when she was about to think her tactic wasn't going to work, the bush rustled.

'_That's it … that's it … AHA! Got him!' _ She thought gleefully as a very small hand timidly reached out and carefully pulled a single chip off from the plate before disappearing quickly back into the quince.

'_You know what they say … can't eat just one chip! Or do they say that about crisps? Oh well, doesn't matter, goes for chips too.' _Tonks quietly placed a refilling spell on his cup and plate so the food would not run out as long as he was willing to eat. He definitely looked as if he needed a full meal - several of them, and she was going to make sure he got it.

Boy and Hedwig munched on the golden chips as Miss Tonks regaled them with more tales of her exploits as an Auror in Training, even as she kept urging him to eat more. It had taken Boy a bit of reasoning around the rules before he could justify to the collar that the food really was his to eat, but he was glad he had - he had never had chips before, and was delighting in how they felt in his mouth when he bit into them. The ketchup was sweet and tangy and the potato crispy and soft at the same time, just as she said they were! Boy thought that he liked them best that way too.

Never having had much to eat at any one time, Boy's stomach was as small as he was, and between the mouse Hedwig had fed him earlier and the chips that he'd munched, it was filling up fast. However, the burger smelled so tempting! Reaching out he pulled it in too and took several small bites before feeding the rest to Hedwig. Boy had made hamburgers before, in fact, his burgers and chips were a favourite dinner of Cousin's, but there had never been any leftovers or dropped bites, other than an occasional bit of bun. Hamburgers and chips were one thing that Cousin never had trouble finishing, and now Boy could see why. Hamburgers were quite delicious, and nothing against Hedwig's offerings … but they were much tastier than mouse.

The next thing to disappear off the plate was the shiny red apple. It quickly found its way into Boy's pocket, to be squirreled away with the rest of the treasures in his cupboard. He would add it to the partial apple that Cousin left for him. If he wasn't greedy, and ate them slowly, he would have something to fill his empty stomach for several days to come - even if Master wasn't happy with the garden and declined to give him food tomorrow.

Boy was utterly entranced by Miss Tonks. She had not only brought him more food than he could possibly eat, she was she pretty and kind, and she had finished all of his garden chores in no time at all. Then to make it even better she made the impish little flitting lights go away! The garden was the most beautiful it had ever been. Now The Family should be both happy and pleased. Boy hoped so, if they were, than maybe Master wouldn't punish him in the morning. With the gnawing hunger gone, maybe he could rest more comfortably while the Garden Party was going on. It always spanned the better part of the day, so he could look forward to hours on end of uninterrupted rest, without the constant tension of wondering if he was about to be pulled out to be whipped or worse. True, he would have to spend it all in his dark hot little cupboard, but his friends from the Woods were back safe and sound, and maybe he could visit them. It was nice to think about he thought sleepily, his full tummy acting as a sleeping potion.

"Now how about some of this nice creamy milk too?" Tonks offered. Wanting to make sure he drank the whole mug of medicine-laced beverage, she took a large gulp of her own to show him how nice it was, but ended up pulling a face and spitting it out.

"Ooo! Ick! I hate warm milk! Guess I should have put a cooling charm on it, eh? Well how about I cool it off a bit for us and we'll try again … Ooo! I've got an even better idea! How about I make these two mugs of warm milk into nice frosty cold chocolate shakes?" Tonks cried happily, clapping her hands together before shielding the mugs from the boy's view and casting the transfiguration charm over the milk. The chocolate would help hide the taste of the medicine. What a brilliant idea, she congratulated herself.

When Miss Tonks drank the warm milk and pulled the funny face, her hair changed from pink to violet and her nose changed shape from pert to button. Then when she clapped her hands at the thought of chocolate shakes, her ears grew pointy and her eyes changed hue from dark brown to bright blue. Her metamorphmagus antics earning her a muffled giggle from the quince bush.

Boy thought Miss Tonks was really funny. The way she kept changing how she looked was very entertaining, but Boy thought the funniest was when she drank the warm milk and her face all scrunched up as if she had just swallowed something very sour. Milk at any temperature was a treat for him, even soured milk. For that matter, water at any temperature was a treat. He was almost always thirsty now, as Master had discovered that he would fill up on water when he denied food so that he wouldn't feel so empty. When Master found out, he put an immediate stop to it and started rationing his water - saying that Boy was avoiding the full benefit of his punishment of fasting by doing so, and consequently not grateful enough for what he did get.

Master was right. When you are always thirsty, you are very grateful for whatever you get to drink, whenever you get it. When you are not thirsty, you take it for granted. To be able to drink until you aren't parched any more, to have more than just a swallow … pure bliss! And this drink she called a chocolate shake? There was only one word to describe the frosty soothing cold trickling down his dry throat … heavenly!

"Aha! Liked that did you? Well watch this one!" Tonks promptly changed her nose to a snout and snorted like a pig, and to her delight, netted another shy giggle from her little companion. It's not really 'magic' per se, she reasoned, it was a part of who she was, and therefore her ability shouldn't fall under magic prohibited by the Muggle Protection Laws. Besides, Tonks thought recklessly, she was getting a kick out of finally making the very sad little boy laugh. Surely, they wouldn't throw her in Azkaban for making a small muggle giggle!

"It is really easy to do … if you're a metamorphmagus as I am. Very few are, but it sure gave me a leg up on the Concealment and Disguise part of the Auror's test. I aced that test without even studying for it! I really showed all those people that kept telling me I didn't have the _'necessary qualifications'._ Youngest Auror ever accepted into the program I was," she chortled with mirth tinged with pride. "Of course, I know that what they were really saying was that I lack the ability to behave myself. On that score, they are probably right. I still do … lack it that is," she smiled affectionately at the dubious honour of that description. "I always say … why just do something, when you can do it with style - with a prank or two thrown in for good measure, just to make more interesting."

"Of course that philosophy was also the reason I was not made a Prefect," she scowled at first making her hair grow long and black, and then shrugged it off returning to her bubble-gum pink. "Do you want to know how I change my looks? What I do is imagine what I want to look like, and how it would _feel. _Did you know that pink hair feels differently than green hair? Well it does. So what you have to do is just imagine what pink hair would feel like if it was on your own head and then kind of push it out of you, from deep inside. And that's pretty much the same thing I did when I apparated around … ah … I mean when I was 'dancing' around the garden before … I just thought about the spot I wanted to be in and then imagined myself there. Then voila! I was!"

Half asleep, Boy started daydreaming and wishing he could do what Miss Tonks did. If he could, maybe he would look less revolting and Ma'am would be less disgusted with him. It sounded easy. He was already really good at pretending. He had had lots of practice. Imagining was probably the same thing, a lot like wishing, or at least close to it. Nevertheless, it probably wouldn't work for him, he sighed. He had already tried wishing to be in the Hundred Acre Wood, and while he sometimes made it there … it was only to visit. It was never to stay for very long, and never to stay for real.

"But enough funny faces, now that we have our stomachs nice and full, it's time we worked on that little 'can't be seen' issue of yours," Tonks announced to the quince bush.

'_Oh no! What did she have in mind?'_ Boy thought warily as her words brought him suddenly wide-awake again. _'She needs to go away … she needs to go away RIGHT NOW! She is just going to get me into trouble, and just when it was beginning to look like tomorrow might be a good day!'_

"While we were having this lovely meal I started thinking, and it seems to me that Dursley changed that little rule about being seen too …"

Boy had no idea what Miss Tonks was talking about. The rule has always been that no one but The Family could see him. No one - No way - No how. It was crystal clear. If he was seen, then he would go to prison for murder. According to Cousin, they did horrible things to little boys in prison who had committed murder, and he hadn't committed just one murder - he had committed two. He had no desire, none at all, to ever be seen, not even by someone as nice as Miss Tonks.

"As I was saying … Dursley said that _'none of the neighbours had better see you tonight'. _Well that certainly doesn't include me! I'm not a neighbour - I don't live anywhere near here at all. I live in London, which is a great big town north of here. Now a 'neighbour' on the other hand is someone who lives nearby, oh say like there - over the fence at Number 2, or across the street at Number 3, you might even stretch it and include people who live on the street behind, like those kind hearted people who contributed their condiments to our picnic. However, I don't see any way at all that Dursley could possibly classify me as a 'neighbour' when I live kilometres and kilometres away. Just in case you were wondering, a kilometre is a very far distance, much farther away than your neighbours live. In fact, it's so far away that you can't even see it from here," Tonks paused to let that sink in.

"So you see … it really wouldn't be breaking Dursley's stupid rule if _**I**_ were to see you … now would it?"

Boy thought hard on that one, Master had said exactly what Miss Tonks said he had … that_ 'none of the neighbours had better see you tonight'_, which was different from what he had always said before … that _'no one had better see you'. _Miss Tonks had been right about the 'not a sound' rule, still to be careful Boy had stayed as quiet as he could be and yet follow the rules by only answering Miss Tonks' direct questions in as few words as possible. However, much to Boy's dismay, Miss Tonks herself had been quite noisy. Even so, Master hadn't woken up and come out here to whip him. Could that mean she was right about the 'don't be seen' rule too?

Maybe tonight it was okay as long as it wasn't a neighbour, as she said. Maybe this was a case of a 'depends' as Piglet had mentioned. Piglet said in a case of a depends, he should stop thinking so hard about the rule and then forget to start again. Miss Tonks really seemed to want him to forget about it, and she really seemed to want to be his friend, even knowing what a filthy freak he was. What was it Piglet had told him? _'When you are little like I am you can't just sit in your own corner of the Woods, if you do, no one can find you. Sometimes you have to go out and find them instead.' _He had to admit, he really did desperately want a friend, maybe even enough to take Piglet's advice and be braver than his size.

"Come out here where I can see you …" she coaxed.

Even though Tonks meant the entreaty as a request, not a demand, the wording left no doubt in Boy's mind that she had just given him a direct order, a demand that he must obey or suffer the consequences.

'_Piglet was right,'_ Boy thought as he took a deep breath, just in case he was wrong and the collar started to choke him again, _'it isn't easy being brave.'_

Tonks sat very still as Hedwig hopped out of the quince bush to join her on the blanket, and then hooted back to the little boy, as if to encourage him to follow her. Very slowly the branches of the quince started to rustle and part as the little boy crawled out of his hiding place on his hands and knees, eyes glued to the ground, taking a deep breath each time he paused, almost as if he was testing to see if something would happen.

Now that he was out into the open, Boy felt very exposed and shy. No one other than The Family had ever laid eyes on him, and they had always told him how ugly and revolting he was to look at. He was very ashamed at how truly disgusting he must be to someone as pretty as Miss Tonks was. He wished he could change his looks as she did, because now that she could see what he looked like she would surely ridicule him and leave.

He carefully edged closer, but stayed out of reach, just in case she only wanted him close by so it would be easier to hit him, as Ma'am did when she pretended she was going to give him something nice, like a whole crust of bread, just to whack him with a frying pan when he reached for it. Boy finally settled on a spot halfway between the quince and Miss Tonks. Close enough to have obeyed the command, yet far enough away to avoid contaminating her blanket with his filth. He _knew _Master hadn't changed the rule on that.

"Well it is very nice to finally get to see you little one! Why don't you come over a bit closer?" Tonks asked patting the second pillow on the blanket right next to her invitingly. Now that he was out where she could see him, she was even more concerned. She had never seen anyone so thin before - a gentle breeze could blow him away. Going by size alone, the boy might have been seven or eight like her original guess, but she realized now that could just be because he looked as if he had never had a decent meal in his life. He could be older than that, maybe by a year or even two she speculated.

Boy wasn't really sure if that was an order or not, since she couldn't possible mean for him to touch the same blanket she was sitting on herself. As a compromise, he closed the gap slightly but still remained at a safe distance.

"Okay little one, I see how this is going to be … I give a little … you give a little. Well, I hate to say this, but we've got to speed this up just a tad. Dursley gave a time limit of five hours and most of that is already past. If we're going to get out of here, we're going to need to do it soon. I have a very good friend named Poppy who would like to meet you very much, and she asked me to bring you to her. But no worries at all, Poppy lives very very far away … even farther away than I do! She lives right next to a great big forest, and you don't see a forest around here anywhere, so she can't be a neighbour either. Would you like to go with me to see her?"

Boy held his breath and sat very still …_ 'what did she say? If we're__going to get out of here? We? Is that what she said?'_ Boy couldn't believe his ears. Miss Tonks wanted to take him somewhere very far away? The farthest away place Boy knew of was the Woods, and he hadn't yet figured out how to get there and stay. '_Does Miss Tonks' Very Good Friend live in the Hundred Acre Wood? She said she lived next to a forest …'_

Boy had a friend in the Hundred Acre Wood named Poppy too. Only his friend was a large red ladybug that lived in the Merry Meadow with Rabbit's other friends and relations. Everyone called her Poppy because she made her home among the bright coloured poppies that dotted the meadow, the same poppies that Rabbit used to make pain-relieving potions. Could his friend Poppy, and Miss Tonks' friend Poppy, be one and the same? It made sense to Boy, because how many Poppy's could there possibly be who weren't flowers? Miss Tonks was also magical, and so were his friends in the Hundred Acre Woods. That must be it! Miss Tonks was going to take him to the Hundred Acre Woods! The great big forest must be the Woods! Boy thought that he would like to go with Miss Tonks to meet her Poppy very much, especially if it was to the Hundred Acre Woods, and her Poppy turned out to be his Poppy too! He couldn't think of anything more wonderful. The very thought was exciting and scary at the same time. He had never been farther than the end of his chain.

His chain …

He couldn't …

He couldn't go anywhere…

Master told him not to even think about trying to get off his chain. Boy started to shake as the small hope that Miss Tonks' words gave him started to dissolve. He couldn't leave, and he couldn't tell her why. Miss Tonks would go away without him, and he would lose his new friend. He would never get to the Hundred Acre Wood now he thought choking back a sob.

"Would it be alright with you if I looked a little closer at that metal band you have around your neck? It is really quite interesting, seems to have some lettering on it. Do you mind if I … um … touch it?" She looked at him hopefully for his approval, knowing that at this point it was going to happen whether he approved or not, it would just be less traumatic on both of them, if he agreed.

Boy steeled himself and stayed motionless as she reached towards him. When Master touched the collar, it grew hot and hurt. Would it do the same when Miss Tonks touched it? He really didn't want to find out, but he didn't have a choice. If she wanted to touch it, he didn't have the right to stop her.

"Thank you for trusting me little one, now I promise this won't hurt a bit," Tonks tried to reassure him after seeing how he reacted to her question.

'_Just what did those vile muggles do to him?' _she wondered as her heart went out to him. She had to restrain herself from picking him up and hugging him right then and there. _'I think I'll first get that chain off and then get him to Poppy. He has so many welts and bruises on just the little bit of skin I can see, I hate to think how many more he may have that I can't.'_

Once again, Tonks was very grateful for her friendship with the two eldest Weasley siblings. The things she had learned from Bill and Charlie were always coming in handy. Those two cunning boys knew more tricks than the rest of the Hogwarts' student body combined. Where they had picked up the knowledge of how to pick locks the muggle way was beyond her, but right now, their lessons were certainly coming in handy as she worked on the padlock that secured the chain to the metal band around the little boy's neck. The instant it fell away, Tonks knew that she had just made an extremely bad mistake. The little boy started gasping for breath and clawing at the band around his neck in obvious distress. As his lips started turning blue Tonks knew she had but mere seconds before he wouldn't be able to breathe at all.

"_That metal band must be magic! I have to get it off him! If I don't, he'll choke to death before I get him even half way to Hogwarts!' _Tonks pulled out her wand. All pretence of not using magic in front of a muggle disappeared as she raced to save his life. Surely, this was an instance of a forgivable offense! She tried every charm and spell she could think of to remove the band - spells to counteract its shrinking, charms to make it grow large enough that she could just slip it off, spells to break it in half, charms to turn it into rubber, and spells to make it vanish entirely. Nothing worked, and the little boy's eyes rolled back into his head as he started to pass out from lack of oxygen.

"Breathe! Breathe!" Tonks yelled out in desperation as she dropped her useless wand and did the only other thing she could think of - undo what she had done. She gathered him up in her arms and snapped the lock back on, securing the end of the chain once more to the collar. The finality of the click, as the lock closed shut, echoed like a clap of thunder in her ears, as it was the only sound in the garden, which was otherwise devoid of sound. The garden, Hedwig, and Tonks all held their breath until Boy finally coughed and took a ragged one of his own.

"Oh Merlin little one, are you okay? I am so sorry! I am so, so sorry! I didn't know! I am so sorry," Tonks chanted as she rocked him back and forth, tears streaming down her cheeks. She clutched him so tight that she didn't notice as his eyelids started to flutter open.

"Please be okay! Please keep breathing! I didn't know that would happen! I wouldn't have ever done it, if I had known! Please keep breathing! Please little one? Please?" Tonks felt a small hand brush away the tears on her cheeks and looked down to meet a pair of startling emerald green eyes looking back at her in wonder.

Miss Tonks was apologizing to him? Why was she crying? Boy didn't understand. It wasn't her fault that the collar had punished him for going against Master's wishes - it was his. Anything that went wrong was always his fault. He knew that for a fact, it had always been that way. He didn't deserve apologies. He didn't deserve to be comforted. He deserved all the punishment he got. Didn't Miss Tonks know that?

His eyes were green! She hadn't just imagined the flash of colour she saw earlier. The pieces started to click together in Tonks brain. A little boy with green eyes, messy black hair - her mother's description of her almost-brother. Add to that one insanely devoted owl, wards strong enough to put Hogwarts' to shame, and the Ministry of Magic's involvement. It all added up to the fact that the child in her arms couldn't be just a little muggle boy, he could only be one little boy she could think of. A magical one who had already proved his ability to defeat the odds, and here he was, impossibly alive despite the ill treatment that would have killed a normal child.

She held her breath as she tenderly brushed the fringe from his forehead, her finger lightly tracing the track of the lightning bolt scar underneath.

"Harry?"

Boy looked up at his angel in confusion and disappointment. Miss Tonks was holding him lovingly in her arms. It was the first time he could ever remember anyone holding him gently, let alone touching him in a way that didn't hurt. Even Master's touch after he finished punishing him only served to humiliate. Only Miss Tonks kindness wasn't meant for him. It was a mistake. A big horrible mistake! It wasn't him she was trying to comfort. It was that boy the two dinner guests had come to find. He should have known. Boy swallowed hard over the lump caught in his throat. No one would ever want him - the freak. No one would ever love him. Master was right. He was just useless trash.

Boy sadly shook his head no, and then flushed as he realized he was staring back into Miss Tonks' dark twinkling eyes. He quickly turned his head and looked away. He wasn't supposed to look his betters in the eye, it was disrespectful, and it was a rule. He was breaking so many rules tonight. He had just had one close call and he couldn't afford to break any more, next time Master's collar might not be so lenient.

Tonks put her hand under his chin and gently brought his face back to where she could look at him again, but he refused to meet her eyes.

"Yes! Yes, you are! You're Harry. Harry Potter. Aren't you?"

"No M-Mi-Miss … I-I'm … I'm just Fr-freak."

Now it was Tonks turn to look confused. Could Harry Potter really not know who he was? But … _everyone _in the wizarding world knew who he was! How could he not? However, he looked so small and so lost, it just broke her heart.

'_Merlin! If the Ministry is involved the toothache has to be at the bottom of this abuse! Why else would he and the toad be visiting Dursley? How else could these wards exist, the middle of a muggle neighbourhood? Where else could that magical band around his neck have come from? How could Fudge dare to do this to the Boy-who-lived? How could he dare to do this to anyone? I knew there was a reason I didn't vote for him! Why that …'_

"… _**SLIMY SCUM-SUCKING RIVER TROLL!"**_ Tonks burst out with venom.

Struggling out of Miss Tonks' warm embrace, Boy backed away, sobs racking his thin frame. Not even Master had called him a slimy scum sucking river troll before, but he certainly knew that tone of voice, and he knew what it meant. It meant Miss Tonks hated him. She had only come to find Harry Potter, and now that she knew that, he wasn't the boy she was looking for she would punish him for pretending to be something he wasn't.

Owl was right, a nothing shouldn't try to be a something, it just caused trouble, and he was as nothing as it got. He had broken so many rules, and now Miss Tonks hated him too. He had the audacity to touch her cheek. He had looked into her eyes without permission. He had allowed himself to be comforted when he didn't deserve it. He had defiantly tried to be something that he wasn't. With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, he knew what he had to do. He was a slave. He didn't have a choice.

The stick Miss Tonks had dropped looked like one of Master's canes only shorter, and being whipped by canes always hurt, especially short ones - they had less give. Picking it up Boy knelt down in front of Miss Tonks, knees apart, back straight, head bowed, and held it out to her on his open palms, stifling his sobs he stoically awaited his punishment, fully expecting her to cane him with the stick. It was a hard thing to do, it was one thing for The Family to punish him, they never hid the fact they hated him, but Miss Tonks … she had been so nice to him, even if it was because she thought he was someone else - someone who mattered. She had been his friend, if only for a little while. It was going to hurt more knowing it was Miss Tonks beating him. However, he didn't have the right to avoid punishment. He deserved it and more.

Tonks heart skipped a beat as Harry bowed his head and knelt before her as if he was offering himself up as a sacrifice. _'Does he expect me to hit him or something?' _

Then he held out the wand to her in a position of supplication. _ 'Oh Merlin, he does! He thinks I am going to beat him with my wand! _

"Uh … why … why are you kneeling there like that?" Tonks asked not wanting to believe what she was seeing him do. Even though the reason was becoming more and more apparent, the longer he knelt in front of her waiting for her to act.

"I'm … I'm sor-sorry … Miss … Miss Tonks."

Eyes glued to the ground, Boy apologized and berated himself soundly for taking upon himself to presume which position she would want him in for punishment. There were many slave positions that Master had trained him to assume depending on the circumstances, and this one was what Master preferred, but that didn't mean Miss Tonks would. It was just one more reason for punishment in and of itself, another rule he had broken, and worthy of several lashes. He was never to assume what his betters wanted. He was always to wait for their instruction. They knew more than he did. He was an idiot.

"Sorry for what?"

"Assuming …"

"Assuming what?" Tonks patiently pried as gently as she could.

"W-w-which position you prefer me in," Boy replied meekly.

"What position I would prefer you in for what?"

"… for pun-punishment. Would you prefer me prone?" he immediately made a motion to lie down on the ground, so it would be easier for her to beat him, but she put out a hand to stop him.

"Why by all the gods above, do you think I would_ punish_ you?" Tonks recoiled, feeling ill at the mere suggestion.

"Be-because I am a … slimy scum-sucking river troll." Boy stated in a very matter-of-fact monotone. After taking note of her obvious revulsion, he used her own words to testify to the reason for his current shame.

'_Oh Gods! Did I say that out loud? I must have, and he thought I was calling him names! Merlin, help me! I've got to get him away from here. But how do I do that without hurting him again? As long as that band is around his neck, there isn't a thing I can do! I need help and lots of it! If the Ministry is involved, I can't go to the Aurors. I know! The Headmaster! He'll know what to do! There isn't time to send Hedwig with a message. Even a patronus might be too late. Besides, this is just too complicated, and it would take too much time to try and explain in a message why I need help. I'll have to do it myself. There was a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix tonight. If I hurry, they might still all be together at Hogwarts … but that means I will have to leave Harry here. By all the gods in the heavens, I don't want to do that, but I don't see any other way. I just have to help him survive, and protect him, until I can get back with the Order.'_

"Har- … uh … no … ah … why don't we still just stick with 'little one' for now?" Tonks compromised, and was grateful that the little boy nodded. Good, she hadn't lost his trust completely.

Tonks moved over to kneel in front of Harry, took the wand out of his hands, and laid it down beside her. Then cupping one hand under his chin, she raised it, forcing him to look her in the eyes. Taking her other hand she took his two small ones in hers, and pressed them together to her heart, ignoring his flinches as she touched him, and being mindful of his injured hand.

"There, there, be still little one … listen to me … are you listening? Good. Now I want you to know that I would _never, ever_, hit you. NEVER! I know I hurt you before when I tried to take off this chain, but I swear I didn't know that would happen. I would NEVER have done it if I knew. I would NEVER hurt you intentionally. And I wasn't calling you names. I was thinking of someone else when I said that. I would NEVER call you names. You're my friend, you're my little one, you're my … my little brother, and I love you. You are one of my favourite things in this entire world. And I am really, really, really sorry. REALLY. Do you believe me?"

Tonks knew the moment she said out loud, that he was her little brother and that she loved him, that it was the absolute truth. She meant it from the bottom of her heart. She had known him only a short time, but it felt like a lifetime. She had found him. He was like a lost puppy she wanted to take home. Nobody else seemed to want him and she did. He was hers now, and she was keeping him. She wasn't going to let him go. Now, if she could just make him truly believe it too.

Boy could hardly believe his ears. Kanga is the only one who had ever told him she loved him with words like those, and she was just his pretend friend, not someone real, not someone alive, and … not someone … touching him. Miss Tonks was touching him! She was touching him, holding his hands, looking into his eyes and saying she loved him as if she meant it. Even now, when she knew that he wasn't that Harry boy - that he was just Freak. However, how could she really mean it? The Family said no one would, or could, ever love him. He wasn't worthy of being loved. He was disgusting. He was a murderer. He was a whore. He was a slave. He was a nothing. That's right. Miss Tonks didn't know that … she didn't know his biggest secrets.

"… do you? Do you believe me little one? Do you still trust me?"

Boy shyly nodded. He had no reason not to trust Miss Tonks, and he had no reason to believe that Miss Tonks was lying to him. Of course, if she knew the whole truth she wouldn't have said that to him to begin with. However, he couldn't fault her for it since he skirted around the no lying rule and had avoided telling her everything. Therefore, the fact that she was misled into thinking he had value was his fault too. If she knew, she would know he wasn't deserving of love, she would know he only deserved to be used and punished. The Family knew the truth, and they knew that was all he deserved.

"I hope you really do mean that little one. Because I meant what I said, and _nothing _… I repeat _nothing_ will ever change my mind - no matter what."

Boy really wanted to believe that. However, sadly he knew it wasn't true. She would change her mind as soon as she found out what he really was she would be just as disgusted with him as The Family was.

"I noticed that your shoulder is bothering you. May I look at it?"

Boy knew he didn't have choice anyway, so with his eyes fixed on the ground once again he just nodded yes.

Letting go of his chin, Tonks easily slipped the too large sweatshirt's neckline down to expose his thin shoulder. She could see it was raw, swollen and red, infection already starting to set in under the multitude of scabs that peppered the tender flesh.

"How did this happen? Tell me!"

"Sh-shot-shotgun," Boy stammered out.

"Dursley _**shot**_ you!" Tonks gasped.

"He sh-shot Mercury … It was … my fault."

"Mercury? Who's Mercury?"

"Hedwig's friend …"

"Oh! Is Mercury another owl?"

Boy nodded, confirming her guess.

"And how was Dursley shooting Mercury _your_ fault? And if he was aiming at the bird, how did you come to be shot too?"

"I-I tried to save him. I-I couldn't … I-I got in the way …"

"And Dursley _**knew**_ you were shot?"

Boy just nodded.

"And he left you like that? He didn't get you any medical attention?"

Boy hung his head and gave her a one-shoulder shrug. She didn't know he was a slave. Master said medicine was too costly to waste on a slave.

"Merlin! Well, let's take care of that first. Would it be all right with you if I do a little magic on you? All it involves is waving this little piece of wood and saying a few words. I promise it won't hurt … well maybe just a little, but then you should feel a whole lot better." Tonks tried to reassure him as she felt him start to tremble. To calm him, she first held the wand out to him to inspect.

"This is my wand."

Boy flinched away at the sight of the wand so close to him. He must have done something wrong already but he didn't know what it was, he was trying his best to obey her commands as far the rules allowed him too. She had said she wasn't going to hit him, but she was already breaking her word - it didn't matter what she called it, a wand or a cane, it would still hurt. However, he didn't understand why she was asking if it was okay to punish him. He knew that whenever he did something wrong he deserved swift and brutal punishment. It was the only way he would learn to be a good slave, so he must accept whatever she wanted to do to him without question. He reluctantly nodded since she seemed to want an answer even though he had no right to refuse anyway.

"Now as I said it may hurt at first …"

'_I thought so. No surprise there.'_

"… but bear with me and it should feel much better soon." Tonks took her wand, and ignoring Harry's cringe at how close it was, tapped it gently to his shoulder. "Ready? Good … _Accio Buckshot!_"

The little metal pellets imbedded in his muscle and skin felt like fire as they tore back out of his shoulder in a reverse course. Once exposed to the open air they dropped to the ground like a heavy rain. Miss Tonks had been right again. The initial assault hurt as bad as when he was first shot, but the chronic throb he had had ever since was now slowly abating.

"Now that I know you are Har- … um … skip that … anyway, now that I know who you are, I can use some of the more potent potions I have in my bag, instead of the muggle ones I picked up. However, we have to be careful anyway. Some of them take time to work, and you have to lie still while they do, such as the Skele-gro potion that could fix your broken hand. I really wish I could take you to Poppy, she is so much better at this than I am. But that's out for now." Tonks sighed in total frustration. She needed to hurry, it would take hours to administer all the potions he needed, and Dursley's time limit was almost up. As much as she hated pressing him, she thought that the precious few minutes she had left would be better spent gathering a little more information in order to find a way to help him.

Boy was disappointed. Miss Tonks wasn't going to take him to the Hundred Acre Wood after all. Not that he really thought she would … well maybe for a moment or two he had foolishly hoped …

"Little one … may I ask you a question?" Tonks asked him kindly, raising his chin once more until she could see his big green eyes.

Looking into her eyes Boy could see the question there, the one he didn't want to answer with every fibre of his being, the one that would reveal his biggest most horrible secret. Now, here she was asking for his permission to ask it. He didn't have the right to refuse, so why bother to ask? He just reluctantly nodded again and tried to prepare for what was coming.

"That metal band around your neck, the one I tried to take the chain off and couldn't, who put that on you?" Tonks asked gently. She didn't know for sure, but she thought she had a pretty good idea of who had put the vile thing on him, and the man wasn't nearly as sweet as his name. She also wasn't exactly sure what it was and how it worked, but knowing those things would help the Headmaster figure out how to get it off him without doing permanent damage … like, oh say, _killing him_ as she almost did.

Outwardly, Boy stayed as still as a statue at her question but inside he started trembling again. As she was still holding tight to his hands, Tonks could feel it.

"My ma-master," was the almost inaudible reply.

"Master? Did you say … _your MASTER? As in Master and Slave? You're _…_ a-a slave?_" Tonks asked incredulously. She had thought of a lot of possibilities, but that wasn't one of them … not even close! Professor Binns had lectured about that dark era of their culture in his history classes. Slavery was banned hundreds of years ago!

'_Oh why did she make me tell?'_ Boy thought as he nodded 'yes' in answer to her question. He wanted to pull his hands away and dive back into the haven of the thorny bush, but forced himself to stay as still as possible. He didn't have the right to move until she said he could, she had told him he had to remain still.

"Okay … not quite the answer I was expecting, but … ah … good to know …"

'_I've really got to get to that meeting!'… _

"So tell me little one…_ WHO _is your 'Master'? What is his name?"

Miss Tonks was really confusing Boy thought. Who else would Master be, but Master? Oh! Maybe she wanted to know his other name, as earlier she had wanted to know his other names. However, he wasn't allowed to call Master anything now but Master. Only he did call Master by his old name when talking to his friends in the Hundred Acre Wood, and the collar hadn't objected, since he wasn't being disrespectful directly to Master. Maybe it would be okay this time too, after all Miss Tonks did order him to tell her his Master's other name.

"Master is S-s-sir."

'_Well that wasn't the least bit helpful! This is going nowhere fast. And we are running out of time.' _Tonks thought discouraged. With dread, she noticed that the eastern sky was slowly becoming lighter.

"So is … um … 'Sir' … a rather portly little man who wears a lot of pinstriped suits, bright red tie, clashing lime green bowler hat, pointy purple boots, small moustache, and is often seen in the company of a rather toadyish looking woman?" Tonks' lips pursed and her eyebrows pulled into a frown as she tried to describe Fudge.

Boy shook his head no. Master didn't like bright colours. Anything he wore was brown or grey. He did have a moustache, but it was a rather large one, as was all the rest of Master. Nothing was small about him, nothing at all. Moreover, Ma'am looked more like a horse than a toad.

"No huh? That leaves just one other possibility … is 'Sir' … Vernon Dursley?"

He didn't even have to nod yes for Tonks to see the truth in his large fearful eyes at the mere mention of Dursley's name. Boy's eyes continued to grow wide as his fear turned to abject terror, his mouth opened but no sound came out.

"Little one?" Tonks looked at him with growing concern. "What's wron-…"

_**THUD**_

Tonks crumpled into a heap as Vernon Dursley came up behind her and hit her in the head with the butt of his shotgun.

"You're what's _**wrong**_ - another damn freak in my garden. Bad enough there is one, but two is over the limit this season." Dursley sneered down at the body of the young witch before rolling it over so he could see her face. Once he did, he let out an indignant roar.

"That's not the one that was with Fudge earlier, so just how the hell did she get in MY garden? I was guaranteed no freaks without my permission!"

Boy had frozen at the terrible sight of Master hurting his angel. He had failed again to protect his friends. He had seen Master coming up behind her, but Miss Tonks had ordered him not to move. He should have warned her anyway. He should have done something! It was entirely his fault she was hurt and at Master's mercy, and Master wasn't known to be very merciful.

As he watched Master move to kick Miss Tonks he knew he had to act, and act fast. But what could he do? The rules forbade him to touch Master or anything Master was touching, so he couldn't fling himself at Master to stop him. He had done that with Ma'am in his attempt to protect the owls, and that had turned out very badly. Speaking to Master, if not asked a direct question, was against the rules as well so he couldn't shout 'No!' He had already paid dearly when he had shouted 'No' at master yesterday. In the end, he did the only thing he could do without breaking any of the rules - he threw himself over Miss Tonks unconscious form and took the kicks that Master had intended for his friend.

It turned out Master didn't care who he kicked.

"YOU! You're the cause of this … I should have known … always causing trouble," Vernon grumbled as he continued to lash out his pent up frustrations, while at the same time keeping an furious bird at bay with the threat of his gun. "You are going to pay for this outrage! Just wait until tonight … just you wait … damn this feels good … just wish I could do more … not getting any … Petunia hasn't been in the mood … that's probably your fault too."

"_VERNON! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"_ A shrill voice called from the front step. _"STOP THAT, THIS INSTANT! _Are you mad? It's getting light out and the neighbours could see. Get that thing in here now! We have to get ready for the Garden Party, and I still need it in shape to make breakfast before Marge wakes up!"

"Yes _dear_. Anything you say _dear_," Vernon grumbled as he unhooked the chain from the stake and started to drag the boy back inside the house. Boy grabbed desperately for something, anything, to hold onto to prevent being pulled along. However, his grasp came up empty except for the little cloth bag, which did nothing to prevent Master from dragging him inside.

Coming too slightly, Tonks felt around for her wand. Finding it, she aimed a spell before collapsing again. The spell shot out of her wand as it fell from her limp grip, hitting Boy squarely in the back, just before Vernon Dursley pulled him across the threshold, and slammed the door behind them.

A few minutes later Vernon Dursley was once again standing over his unwanted visitor, talking to her unconscious form.

"Petunia says you've got to go. Says you're trashing up the garden. We can't have that with the garden judging today. Too bad. You might have been a bit of fun." Vernon rolled her up in the picnic blanket and heaved it over his shoulder. Grunting heavily, he trudged with his load to the deserted back garden of the house next door and dumped her body out-of-sight in a flowerbed that had seen better days.

"Good riddance to bad rubbish," he sneered and started to leave. Then as she groaned, he stopped to peer down and take a closer look at her face.

"I do recognize you after all … you applied for a job yesterday at Grunnings. You're Trixie-Something-Strange. However, your hair wasn't pink … or was it? Damn it all! It was! It was you at the elevator. You were the freaky punk who spilled coffee all over me. You've been following me, haven't you? You're probably one of those do-gooders that Fudge told me to watch out for, what was it he called you? Righto … Auror's … the ones that are always poking their noses in where they don't belong. Well, Fudge said I had the right to refuse admittance to my property to any of your lot that I choose. I so choose. You and the rest of your kind, the whole lot of you Aurors, are not welcome at Number 4 Privet Drive. Never set foot on my property again. Now, get out and stay out."

After spitting on her to punctuate his point, Vernon Dursley walked away wiping his hands together in satisfaction of a job well done. By the time he reached the pavement, he was even whistling a bit as he thought about how he was going to reward himself later.

"Morning," he nodded pleasantly to a passerby who was seemingly out for an early morning walk. Then he took a second look at his strange attire, and scowled darkly.

'_Must be a new neighbour,' _Vernon concluded, as he looked him over critically. Displeased with what he found, he took a large step sideways and moved by quickly. _'Maybe we ought to move soon, this neighbourhood is going downhill.'_

"And a good day to you too, Sir. Lovely morning," Mad-Eye Moody returned in greeting to the retreating back of the large red-faced man.

'_My, wasn't he the unpleasant muggle? Now to find out what my little protégé has been up to all night, while I have been interviewing the Muggle law enforcement officers on their latest crime fighting techniques. When I left her, she was leaning out of an upstairs back window …'_

Taking a cautious look around in the direction that the man he had just passed had come from, it didn't take Moody long with his magical eye to spot Tonks' semi-conscious form rolled up in a blanket in the flowerbed.

Groaning, Tonks tried to sit up, then flopped back down, rubbing the back of her head.

"So Tonks … which was it?" Moody asked unwrapping her, "The date from hell - or just one hell'uva date?"

"Both. And could you be a little quieter? I've got a splitting headache," Tonks whimpered, holding her head in both hands.

"No wonder, that's quite a goose egg there. Present from your boyfriend?" Moody said derisively noticing the lump starting to form. "If you don't mind my saying so, he didn't look your type. You're going to need an ice pack instead of this roll of bandages you dropped."

"Bandages? Boyfriend? Boy? MERLIN! LITTLE ONE!" Tonks grabbed her wand out of the jumble of the discarded blanket and jumped up. Rushing out of the garden and to the rose arbour, she immediately found herself once again flat on her back, after being repelled violently by the wards.

"AHA! Ouch! … Note to self, never scream 'Aha' out loud when you have a concussion," Tonks said ruefully rubbing her aching head.

"Tonks? What just happened here?" Moody queried as he squatted beside her prone body once again, while eyeing the house at Number 4 Privet Drive suspiciously. His magical eye failing him for once as it failed to penetrate the house's defences.

"My invitation seems to have been revoked," Tonks replied dryly staring up at the ever-lightening sky.

"Invitation?"

"Yes, the invitation my little brother gave me."

"That crack you took on the head must be worse than I thought."

"Why do you say that? Am I bleeding?"

"No, at least not from your head," he observed dubiously seeing blood smears on her clothes but not finding a source. "However, I've known Andromeda and Ted for years. I happen to know you're an only child."

"Am I? Am I really? Do you want to place a wager?"

"Quite sure, and no bet. It's against my principles to take advantage of someone with a brain injury."

Tonks quirked an eyebrow and stared up at Moody.

"You have principles? The man who is always looking for the edge and advantage in any situation with all that Constant Vigilance stuff? Hrumph! This is the first I've heard of it. So is that the only thing stopping you? Because if it is, don't strain yourself on my account."

"Pretty much, it's not sporting and takes all the fun out of winning. That would be sinking to the level of a Death Eater. Otherwise, you'd be fair game for the taking. Well come on then. Let's get you some medical attention. Besides that bump, you took a nasty shock," Moody said offering her a hand up. "Poppy is probably at Hogwarts. The Order of the Phoenix meeting was there tonight as well, and it promised to be a long one. Why don't we go see her? St. Mungo's would ask too many questions, and I'd wager ten Galleons that you probably don't want what ever happened here tonight to be on the record. That is one bet I would make."

"Poppy? … Hogwarts! … THE HEADMASTER! I NEED DUMBLEDORE!" Tonks yelled jumping up and grabbing Mad-Eye with a crazed look in her eyes.

"Don't we all? Especially if he would run for Minister and replace that poor excuse of a jackass that's there now. However, why do you? What's going on Tonks? What so all fired important?" he fired off rapidly.

"Constant Vigilance, Moody! Constant Vigilance is what is so important. You were right. You've been right all along. I didn't listen then, but I'm listening now! I've got to go. I have a meeting to get to and I haven't much time!"

With a thunderous _'CRACK' _that rattled the windows of Number 4 Privet Drive like a sonic boom, a determined Tonks apparated to Hogwarts, followed by a very bemused Moody. This strong-minded young woman, full of passionate purpose, was not the same flighty reckless Tonks he knew just two days ago.

Whatever the reason was, that she was heading for Dumbledore …

It should be interesting.

And it was one meeting he was not going to miss either.


	36. Order of the Phoenix

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Language and mention of extreme child abuse of a sexual nature. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Back to Friday midnight August 2nd, 1991 through early morning hours Saturday August 3rd, 1991

**Chapter 36 – Order of the Phoenix **

"Albus, I believe everyone is here who is going to be here, now if you insist on having this meeting can't we just get on with it?" Severus Snape said impatiently. "I have cauldrons to get back to that can't be left unattended indefinitely."

"Patience, patience my dear boy. Let's see who is here …"

Looking around his tower office, he gazed fondly at each member of the Order of the Phoenix, gathered in small groups about the room. Curiously, other than himself and his Potion's Master, the rest of the group had evenly divided the room into two halves - six on each side of the circular room. Those that knew what he was about to announce, and those that did not.

On the left side of the room Kingsley Shacklebolt and Remus Lupin were holding a heated discussion in whispers, Remus' eyes looking definitely wolfish as he tried to make a point, while Kingsley's were blank and unreadable as he just kept shaking his head 'no' in disagreement.

Nearby, Minerva and Arabella sat in dead silence side by side on a small sofa, Minerva looking stern and sombre, letting her tea grow cold in her hands, while Arabella looked scatterbrained and preoccupied, holding an old album on her lap and nervously rolling and unrolling strips of brightly coloured cardboard paper in her fidgety hands. Hagrid was leaning against the stonewall behind them, occasionally letting out a long mournful moan as he tried to not get too near any of the delicate instruments that littered the small tables around the office.

For some reason, Aberforth had aligned himself with those 'in-the-know', and was alternating between patting the half-giant comfortingly on the shoulder and shooting his brother Albus dirty looks. Ah well, his brother Aberforth always did have his way of finding out things before they were announced. Albus supposed it went hand in hand with being a barkeeper.

On the right hand side of the room, Hestia Jones and Emmeline Vance sat together on another sofa, but unlike the pair of women across from them, these two were having an animated conversation with their tea. Hestia's cheeks becoming rosier each time she blushed and tittered at something Emmeline was saying. Behind them in a group stood Sturgis Podmore, Elphias Dodge, and Dedalus Diggle, all looking quite sceptical at the merchandise that Mundungus Fletcher kept furtively pulling out of the various pockets of his robes to show them.

Counting heads Albus saw there were still a few members left unaccounted. "Are you sure you contacted everyone?"

"Yes Albus, I did. By the way, are you aware of how difficult it is to work the phase, _'The sun rises at midnight in Candyland',_ into a normal conversation without appearing foolish?"

"But you do it so well Severus," Albus returned ambiguously.

"Where did you come up with such an asinine phrase anyway?"

"Well 'sun' is the Latin term for 'Phoenix', and we are the Order of the Phoenix, 'midnight' is for the time of the meeting of course, and 'Candyland' … well that should be quite obvious, it's the name of a muggle children's board game. Would you care for a lemon sherbet Severus?" The old wizard offered a dish of the candy confections to his dour faced Potions Master.

"No thank you Albus and you're trying to change the subject. In the future if you insist on having me pass secret messages to your secret order, I really think you need to come up with a better secret way of doing it. By the third conversation I felt like an idiot."

'_Hm … I didn't think it would take that long! I'm going to have to work on a better phrase,' _thought Albus as a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Perhaps you could come up with something like charmed coins to instantaneously broadcast a message to all the members?" Albus teased.

"Charmed coins - as if that would work! That is something a child might think of," Severus snorted derisively. "Give a coin to Fletcher and he would just spend it on firewhiskey, and the Weasleys would use it to buy shoes for their brood. Then where would your secret messages be? In the pocket of a Death Eater more than likely."

"Well it doesn't really matter anyway, as soon as I tell everyone what has happened, I doubt if there will be an Order of the Phoenix left to hold a meeting."

"Do you really have that little faith in everyone?"

"No Severus, it is not little faith I have, it is great faith. I chose every member by hand. I invited them to join for the special talents they bring to the group, the most important being their innate core belief of what is right, their dedication to the cause and their unwavering support of the light. When they find out what I caused … what I did … what I didn't do … how I let them down … how I let the entire wizarding world down …" his voice broke and trailed off.

"I think you are selling your own importance to the cause too short. Yes, Potter was important, but he was a mere child. You are vastly more important. You have the experience we need to lead us. Potter could never have done that. He did nothing to earn their respect. He was just a babe in the wrong place at the wrong time, and who got lucky once. He was a symbol, nothing more."

"He was a child Severus, and that is a great deal," he looked him sternly in the eye. "Remember to never underestimate the potential of a child. They are our future."

"Fine - I won't," Severus retorted looking just as stern in return. "Now, can we get on with this meeting? My cauldrons will soon be boiling."

"As I said before … patience. Not until everyone is here. I don't want to have to say it more than once. Are you positive you contacted everyone, and that they all said they would be here? We seemed to be missing a few Weasleys still."

"Yes Albus I contacted, _everyone_ … everyone except for Frank and Alice Longbottom, and that mangy mutt in Azkaban. I didn't think you would want me to attempt to go there."

"No, I suppose not." Albus regretfully agreed and heaved a sigh. "Although, I suppose I should still inform Sirius Black. As godfather, he does have the right to know."

"After nine and a half years in Azkaban, it is foolish to expect him to know his name let alone anything you might tell him now. It's a waste of time," Snape scoffed.

"Ah but it is my time to waste. Besides, I will probably be in the adjoining cell within a month's time."

"Then save yourself the trip now. If you are so sure of the outcome of the announcement, you will have plenty of time to talk to the mutt later."

"Very cynical, aren't we?"

"I know the preliminary reports you received do not look promising, but my instincts tell me there is something wrong in that house. I just know it. I don't trust Dursley as far as I could throw him, and with his bulk that isn't far."

"I have always placed great faith in your instincts my boy. However, I also place great faith in your abilities. You brewed the veritaserum yourself. You heard Vernon Dursley's testimony. As much as I would like it not to be so, it is irrefutable."

"But still …"

"No, my boy, I must face the facts and it is time you did also. Ah, speaking of the Weasleys … they have just arrived." Albus noted as the floo sprang to life once again and four redheaded wizards stepped through.

"Oh joy," Snape sneered.

"Now, if I am correct, all we are waiting for is Alastor, and our newest member Miss Nymphadora Tonks."

Kingsley Shacklebolt walked up to the pair at just that moment and overheard the tail end of the conversation.

"Tonks had a date. She won't be here."

Severus raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. Memories of the rambunctious young auror, who just the year before, had still been plaguing his N.E.W.T. level potions class with her antics, flashed unfavourably through his mind.

"Oh really, a date? During their seventh year I thought she and Charlie Weasley were, how do they put it? 'An item'? … and he's over there," Severus nodded over to where Arthur and Molly Weasley had just taken their places along with their two oldest sons Bill and Charlie.

"_That's interesting …"_ Albus mused, "still half and half." His gaze followed to where Severus nodded and he watched the pair sit down on the third small sofa in the centre of the semi-circular arc of people. Arthur sat down on the left side, aligning himself unconsciously with the 'in-the-know' group, while Molly sat firmly on the right with the 'I-haven't-got-a-clue-what-going-on' group, a worried look in her eyes as she instinctively clutched Arthur's hand tightly. Looking somewhat grim, the two boys stood behind their parents.

'_I was hoping that Arthur would have told Molly by now. Ah well … if it wasn't to be, it wasn't to be.' _He shook his head and focused again on the conversation between Snape and Kingsley about the missing members.

"Yes, a date Severus. She is young. It happens. The love life always seems to take priority over anything else at that age."

"In that case, we should rethink her membership." Snape said coolly.

"Nonsense, Severus! Love is everything! It is the key! I can't think of a more delightful and appropriate reason to miss this particular meeting. I am sure Kingsley can bring her up to speed later. However, what of Alastor? Where is he? I don't suppose you are going to tell me he had a date as well?"

"No, but he is chaperoning Tonks on hers." Kingsley shrugged at another incredulous look from the Potions Master and a feeble chuckle from the Headmaster. "Moody will probably be here before the meeting is over. He was just going to check on Tonks first, and make sure she wasn't getting into trouble. He said not to wait for him. I'll catch him up on anything he might miss when I brief Tonks."

"Very well. We've all waited long enough for this meeting to start. So, as you are so oft to say Severus … let's get this over with."

Albus took a deep breath, stepped to the centre of the room, and held up his hands for attention. The room quieted as those standing took their seat on chairs scattered about the room and everyone turned their eyes to Albus, some in dread, knowing bits and pieces about what was about to be said, and rest in curiosity to know the topic for the unusual meeting.

Never before had a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix been called, without any inkling of what it was to be about already plastered on the front page of the Daily Prophet. This morning's headline was just a repeat of the same old one extolling the virtues of the Minister for Magic and his new regime, and blaming the old regime on the fact that the Ministry was over budget again, and that jobs and salaries were on the line.

Looking around at the expectant faces gathered in his office, Albus felt a great wave of sadness for those no longer in their midst. Too many of their valued colleagues had been taken from them during the war with Voldemort, some to murder such as James and Lily Potter, and some to a madness caused by torture like Frank and Alice Longbottom. He didn't know which was worse, dying too young or dying a living death. Either way none of the lost was coming back to them. The list was long - too long: the Potters, the Longbottoms, Peter Pettigrew, Edgar Bones, Caradoc Dearborn, Benjy Fenwick, Marlene McKinnon, Dorcas Meadows, Gideon and Fabian the two Prewett brothers, and now he had to add one more name to that illustrious list … Harry James Potter. Although, Harry had not been a 'member' of the Order of the Phoenix, he had been the rallying point for its current members, their hope for the future. His name deserved listed along with the other fallen heroes.

Albus Dumbledore had been dreading this meeting for days now. As the founder of the Order of the Phoenix they looked to him to be their leader, to be all knowing, and to always to the right thing. He had let them down, and now he had to tell them.

"My friends and colleagues, it is with great sadness and an extremely heavy heart, that I have gathered you all here tonight. I have some rather unfortunate news. A few of you have already been apprised of what I am about to announce, and still others among you have undertaken, at my request, investigation into the matter at hand. However no one, not even I, know the full results of these investigations. Under the circumstances, I thought it best that we all hear the reports firsthand so that everyone can be rest assured that no details were being held back and hidden to my benefit. There is no easy way to say it, so I will just be direct."

'_That will be a change.'_ Snape thought with a laugh. _'Albus Dumbledore direct? Hell must be having a cold snap.'_

Molly gave Arthur a searching look. He had been acting strange for days, always seeming to be on the verge of telling her something and then at the last minute going off to tinker in his workshop instead. Looking at him now she saw how he was avoiding her eyes … whatever it was that the Headmaster was about to announce … he knew! He knew, and what's more, he hadn't told her!

Feeling the pressure of hands on her shoulders to steady her, she glanced behind to see her oldest sons, one on either side, also avoiding her eyes by staring straight ahead at Dumbledore. They knew too! They all knew, and they all knew she wasn't going to be happy about whatever it was! She gave Arthur's hand a painful squeeze to get his attention, but he just turned red and looked at his feet. This didn't bode well - not at all. Arthur had never before avoided telling her something, no matter how bad the news. Was this why Bill and Charlie had come back home so suddenly after their last visit just days ago? Was this meeting that important?

Dumbledore started pacing the room.

"The news I have to depart is grave, and it is quite difficult to find the right words. I am sure you will have many questions, however please wait until I am done with my tale." Taking another deep breath, the Headmaster started relaying the sad news. "As you all know, Harry James Potter should have been starting Hogwarts as a first year at the beginning of term. Alas, I regret to inform you that because of how events unfolded in the past, that will not be happening."

When Dumbledore paused and looked from face to face, instead of questions, he was met with dead silence. Those that knew what he was referring to didn't need to ask, those that didn't know, had no idea about what he was talking. Was Harry Potter going to be attending Durmstrang or Beauxbatons instead of Hogwarts? That would be a definite blow to Dumbledore's pride, however to have it the cause for a full-blown emergency meeting of the Order? They thought not.

Seeing the confusion on their faces, Aberforth spoke up in frustration. "Sometimes Albus you are more cryptic than a crossword puzzle. Can't you ever just say what you mean without hiding it in a jumble of words?"

"Ah, my apologies. I have just had this conversation so many times with myself lately that I forgot no one had been here listening."

"Well I like that! We're no one!" Phineas Nigellus Black took offense as spokesperson for the former headmasters' portraits.

"Apologies to you as well Phineas. You have all been a great sounding board. However, Aberforth is correct, I suppose I was just being a foolish old man and trying once again to deny the truth."

"Albus … I am almost afraid to ask now … but what is the truth? Why won't Harry be here?" Molly grasped Arthur's hand even tighter in fear for her almost son.

"I suppose I must go into a bit more detail …"

"That would be nice," Aberforth said dryly.

"Professor McGonagall brought it to my attention earlier this week that Harry Potter had not returned his acceptance letter yet. Therefore, Professor Snape and I paid a visit to the relatives he was placed with back in 1981, to inquire as to the reason."

Molly held her breath, her motherly instincts going into overload. At least now, she knew that he had been placed with relatives, she had always wondered, but for some reason the way Dumbledore phrased it filled her with dread. She knew that James had no living relatives, and that Lily had only one - an older muggle sister named 'Daisy' or 'Violet' … some flower name anyway. She was to have been Lily's Matron of Honour. However, at the last minute, she and her new husband had refused to attend the wedding of what they called 'two abnormal freaks', so Molly had filled in instead.

She knew that Lily forgave the snub, as she truly loved her sister and wanted to get to know her new brother-in-law, but the incident had left a bad taste in Molly mouth when it came to the muggle pair. To do that to a bride on what was to be the happiest day of her life, was just uncouth. She wondered what type of guardians they had made for her little almost son. She doubted if they could have loved a child, whom she could only imagine, that they would have also classified as an 'abnormal freak' like his parents. She was wishing now she had never asked Dumbledore the question.

"In speaking with his uncle and aunt, we discovered that a fatal mistake had been made nine and a half years ago. Let me correct that … that _**I**_ had made a fatal mistake - a mistake which caused the death of Harry James Potter in the early morning hours of November 2nd, 1981."

"_**ARRRRRGGGGHHHH! LEGGO' MOLLY!"**_ Arthur screamed in pain as Molly crushed his hand so tight that several bones felt like they snapped.

"**WHAT!"** Molly and the rest of the right side of the room gasped, only to have the statement confirmed by the silence, and a mournful wail from Hagrid on the left side of the room.

"Arthur, I had Poppy stay at the ready in the Hospital wing in case there was a need for her services tonight, why don't you go have her take a look at that hand and then pop right back?" Albus suggested with a weak smile. "I'll try to explain the details to Molly and the others while you are being tended to."

Grateful for the momentary escape, Arthur flooed to the Hospital wing to find Poppy the mediwitch taking inventory of her supplies for the school term about to start.

"Hi Poppy, Albus told me you would be here."

"Arthur Weasley! I wasn't expecting to see you among the casualties."

"Albus told us that he asked you to be ready in case there was need tonight at the … er … meeting."

"Oh don't be worrying about giving away any secrets Arthur. I know all about the _secret_ Order of the Phoenix. The Headmaster invited me to join, but I have too many responsibilities to the children to just up and leave willy-nilly in a moment's notice for some undercover mission. Besides, someone needs to be here to patch up all you warriors after the battle." Poppy said as she ushered him into the infirmary. "Albus already told me the awful news. He thought I should be prepared with extra calming draughts and dreamless sleep potions for the children, for when the news is announced after the sorting feast."

"Yes the children will be upset," Arthur acknowledged as he sat down on the end of a bed. "I know our Ron has been very excited to finally meet Harry Potter in person, and not just rely on what he's read about him in the history books."

"So what brings you here? Your hand?" she asked reaching out to take it and waving her wand over it in a diagnostic spell.

"What?" Arthur asked absentmindedly still thinking about Ron.

"Your hand, Arthur. How did it get hurt?

"Oh! When Albus made the announcement Molly squeezed it so hard, I think might have broken it."

"Molly didn't know already?" Poppy asked her eyes narrowing dangerously to slits.

"I tried. I just couldn't find the words to tell her," Arthur admitted sheepishly. "OW! That hurt!"

"Not as much as Molly probably does," Poppy returned tugging another finger into place without anaesthesia.

"What ever happened to 'do no harm'?" Arthur yelped.

"What ever happened to 'honour thy wife'?" Poppy retorted straightening the final digit and casting one last spell. "There, that ought to do it - nothing broken, just out of joint. Much like Molly's nose probably. Now, back you go. It's time to face the music."

Stepping back out of the floo into Albus' office, Arthur looked shamefaced at his wife's red eyes and tear streaked face. Molly was blowing her drippy nose on Bill handkerchief while Charlie was rubbing calming circles on her back. What he could only imagine had been wailing sobs of immeasurable proportion had now subsided into small spasmodic hiccups. Poppy had been right. He should have found the words somehow. He should not have let her find out this way. It had been cruel of him.

"…so as you see, it was entirely my fault." Albus was just finishing up.

"I was there too Albus. It was just as much my fault. When you make the announcement I will be at your side." Minerva McGonagall spoke up.

"Aye, me too," Hagrid chimed in. "If anyone is going to Azkaban for this, it should be me. I'm the only one who dinna try to do something to check on the wee lad."

"No my friends. Your hearts are in the right place. However, the blame resides with me alone. I was ultimately responsible. After I step down, the children will need you here at Hogwarts. One of us in Azkaban is quite enough."

"Step down? You're resigning?" Minerva paled. "Then you really think it will come to that?"

"Yes Minerva, I am sure it will."

"But resign? Why?"

"The Board of Education and the Ministry, as well as the parents, will demand it. It is better I do it first. However, I will wait until after the sorting ceremony and the children settled into their houses, before I call the press conference. The children are the most important consideration, and this way their parents will be less likely to disrupt their education and pull them out of school if they are already here … with the knowledge that I am not."

"Can't you wait a little longer to make the announcement, until the school year is more underway?" Elphias Dodge wheezed. "Give the children more time?"

"I would like to my old friend, however the press will be expecting Harry to get off the train on September first, and when he isn't there. They will demand an immediate explanation. The longer we wait after the sorting the worse it will be, and the stronger the case the Ministry will make that there was a cover up. Directly after the sorting feast is the best time. I will make the announcement to the press, who I am certain will be hovering at the gates trying to get a photo of the Boy-who-lived. I would like Minerva to take over as temporary Headmistress until the Board appoints a permanent replacement."

Minerva McGonagall gasped at this announcement, while Severus Snape drew in a sharp breath.

He wasn't really surprised he wasn't named, after all he was an ex Death Eater with a cloud of suspicion still hanging over him, so Minerva as Deputy Headmistress was the natural choice. He just wished that Albus had let him in on that little bombshell beforehand. However, he took comfort in the fact that his colleague appeared just as stunned.

"Albus, you said that several Order members were investigating … investigating what?" Emmeline Vance asked to fill up the ensuing silence.

"Ah yes, thank you for reminding me Emmeline. That is the actual purpose of calling you all to this meeting. I wanted there to be no question in your minds that we withheld any information, as you may need the comfort of that knowledge to continue the fight. I wanted all of you to get the information firsthand."

There was murmuring of approval to this approach. A few of the members had felt that in the past that the Headmaster needed to extend his 'need-to-know' list to be more inclusive.

"Before we begin, let me explain the reason for the investigations. When Severus and I visited Harry Potter's relatives, Severus noticed a few 'abnormalities' that drew his suspicion. To make sure that we left no stone unturned I requested a few of our members - Kingsley Shackleford, Remus Lupin, and Arthur Weasley to make a few confidential inquiries."

At this disclosure, Molly kicked Arthur soundly in the ankle causing him to yelp once again before she said sweetly, "So sorry to interrupt. Please continue Albus. Arthur was investigating you say?"

Albus gave Arthur a pitying sideways glance before answering. "Yes Molly, I asked Arthur and the other two men to investigate Severus' suspicions and _swore _them to secrecy until this meeting." He added the last for the benefit of Arthur's marital harmony, earning a grateful yet still guilty look from Weasley patriarch.

"Shall we hear from Kingsley first?" Albus gestured to the Auror to come forward, and then he sat down at his massive desk, seeming to shrink as he settled into the high backed chair.

"Thank you Albus," Kingsley Shacklebolt said taking the floor. Flipping open his pad he started reading from his notes. He felt sorry for Albus, and he knew that given the choice between sending Harry Potter to live with his relatives, and sending him to Azkaban, he really hadn't had a choice. However, facts were facts, and he could have, and should have, done a few things differently.

"Severus brought up an excellent point about the blood wards. First, he questioned why the wards didn't sound the alarm when Potter was in danger. He wanted to know if it were possible they were not in place, or that they had been set up incorrectly. On November first, 1981, one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore placed a work order, authorized by one Dolores Jane Umbridge, for the Ministry to install blood wards at a muggle residence. The order read, _'to protect from outside harm the magical child residing at the named address, as long as the child calls the residence home, or until he comes of age, whichever comes first'_. It further stipulated to use the essence of the magical core of the child, and the blood of one 'Petunia Dursley'. The Ministry was in charge of setting up the wards as there were no living wizards of the Potter line capable of performing the task. According to the request, they were to have them in place prior to midnight of that same day. If they had been set up as per Albus Dumbledore's intent, they should have immediately alerted the Ministry that the night was too cold and the child was in danger of freezing to death, before Albus and company left. However, no alarms went off according to the monitoring logs at the Ministry, and no such life and death level alarms have gone off since."

Kingsley paused to take a breath and glanced around the room. He had everyone's attention, time for the bad part.

"I have personally tested the boundary wards at the perimeter of the property. They are extremely strong, and bar any magical person from entering without the express permission of the residents. It also prevents apparation, either in or out. Another layer of protection prevents any magic spells from penetrating the wards from the outside. In addition, a layer also prevents accidental magic within the boundaries themselves. I also suspect because of how the billing invoices were prepared, that there is a second even stronger ward on the house itself, as well as additional protection layers installed there too. However, I was unable to verify this as the diagnosis spell would not penetrate the outer perimeter layer. From the tests, I could see that instead of just reinforcing the existing wards, that a completely new layer of wards have been installed yearly over all the prior existing wards. This yearly renewal has had the effect of reinforcing each underlying layer in turn. It is an absolute fortress. I have never seen wards these strong …"

He paused once more to give Albus a meaningful look before going on.

"… not even those of Hogwarts. The Ministry's monitoring logs indicate that they have registered only a few minor fluctuations - similar to a spike I noticed when I was first checking the wards. The Ministry had each fluctuation checked and verified. They were normal variances, due to the intricate complexity of the layers. According to the paperwork at the Ministry, at exactly nine o'clock of the evening of November first, and my diagnostics verify that date and time. The child of the intended protection was deposited at the residence just before midnight that same day. I have a copy of the muggle death certificate attesting to the child's death at approximately six a.m. due to hypothermia the morning of November second. I also ran extensive diagnostic tests on the wards. They are working perfectly, and they were set up ..." he paused before stating meaningfully, "… _exactly_ as requested - to the letter."

"Secondly, Severus questioned why the Ministry was still paying for the wards almost ten years after Harry Potter died. I followed the paper trail and discovered that the Ministry hasn't been paying for the wards at all. The cost is being billed monthly to the Potter Family vaults in Gringotts, along with a hefty monthly fee for 'maintenance', another substantial one for 'administration costs', and a third minor fee just labelled as "miscellaneous contract expenses'. This last one over the last ten years totalled at best £2,500 pounds. However, just this morning this fee category had a large 'adjustment' expenditure of £25,000 pounds approved by Dolores Umbridge's office for processing. To sum it up, you could say that the ministry spared no expense and installed only the best protection that the Potter fortune could buy, even though there were no Potters in residence to protect."

Kingsley flipped the cover of his notebook closed with finality. "Well, that's my report. Are there any questions?"

"So there is no question that the ward alarms should have sounded, if the child had been in any danger that night?" Albus asked resignedly.

A frown appeared on the normally poker faced Auror. Aberforth was right. Dumbledore always did hide his meanings in a jumble of words. He hadn't ever really noticed that before, but after investigating the wards, he concluded that this time it cost a child his life. Dumbledore had _never _named Harry Potter directly in any of the requests to the Ministry, it was always "the child" this and "the child" that, if he had just been absolutely clear for once they wouldn't be having this meeting. However, that revelation could come later as he was feeling a little too vindictive right now in regards to the whole thing on 'the child's' behalf. There wasn't anything he could do to help Harry Potter now, but he could at least let the old man stew in it just a little while longer. It wasn't much, but it was something. Anyway, that was part of Arthur's report to tell, not his.

"None whatsoever Albus, they were working perfectly. As I said before - they were set up _exactly_ as you requested … _to the letter_. Are there any other questions?"

Sturgis Podmore frowned as he tried to make some sense of it. "You say the wards are still in place today, and that they are blood wards? Then how could they still be standing, no matter who is paying for them? With blood wards, it takes two people, and if either were dead, the wards would fail. Since the wards are still in place, wouldn't that mean that Harry Potter _must_ still be alive? Could the muggle death certificate have been falsified?"

"Thank you for bringing that up Sturgis. I had the same question come to my mind," the auror replied. "It took a bit of doing but I tracked down the muggle EMT's who were on the scene that morning, and the Coroner who issued the death certificate. It is genuine. There is no doubt about it. I also investigated your other point, why then were the wards still standing? The first time I ran the diagnostics, I had noticed a small spike in the wards, so I went back to the residence the next day with Arthur, to take a closer look. In the course of the investigation, we stumbled on the answer to that riddle. However, that disclosure belongs to Arthur. Before I turn the floor over to him, are there any final questions?"

"Just one other … you say there were hefty monthly fees being charged by the ministry. Just how large were they?"

Kingsley flipped his notebook open and scanned through a few pages before answering, "Over a hundred thousand pounds a month."

The entire room gasped at this. The amount was more than most of them would make in a lifetime, and that was the charges for just one month?

"Do you know where all this money went?" Sturgis probed further. "Seems to me that I read in the paper just this morning that Fudge says the ministry is over budget again, and that he needs to raise taxes. If the ministry is charging that kind of overhead and still doesn't have enough funds, not to lay off personnel without raising taxes … Well, it makes me wonder if perhaps some of it, if not most, is going into someone's pocket."

"I followed the money trail as far as I could. It was quite difficult as the money was shuttled back and forth through several accounts and departments, with funds being stripped off with each transaction, until the trail finally ended with the bulk being disbursed through two payouts from the Department of W.W. & W."

"What's that department? I haven't heard of it before." Mundungus Fletcher asked suspiciously. "I thought I knew all the departments in the Ministry."

"It's the Department of Wards, Waifs, and Werewolves," Remus Lupin's soft voice came from the back of the room. "The bane of my existence."

"Okay, I guess I can understand why the money went through that department. Harry Potter would have been a waif, and it was the Potter's money paying for the wards … but answer me this … if Harry Potter was dead who got the money?"

"The money went back to Gringotts and the trail would have disappeared completely at that point, except for the help of Bill Weasley. As an employee of Gringotts, he did some investigating from that end and discovered that Gringott's split the money into two disbursements each month. A small one that went back to another department at the Ministry to pay the property taxes for the House of Black, and a large one deposited to a vault at Gringotts listed under the initials 'R.J.L.'."

Bill Weasley spoke up at this, "The vault ownership was only listed by those initials. I couldn't find out who the actual owner of the vault was because of confidentiality, and the goblins were starting to get suspicious of my inquiry as it was. However, we should be able to narrow it down to someone with those initials. "

All eyes in the room turned to Remus John Lupin.

"Hey don't look at me! The only thing the Department of W.W. & W has ever given me is grief. My vault only contains dust and cobwebs. If I was getting that kind of money every month I wouldn't have holes in my socks."

"Oh you poor man!" Molly cried out with sympathy, grateful to have someone on whom to shower her excess mothering. "You just stop by the Burrow and I will take care of that for you."

"Thanks Molly," Remus said gratefully. "I never was very good at mending charms."

"What about the other payment? Why are the Potter vaults paying for the Black property taxes? The Blacks had enough money of their own."

"Ah … yes. With Sirius Black incarcerated in Azkaban, the Black fortune has been frozen by the Ministry." Albus supplied.

"How do you know Black's assets are frozen Albus?" Elphias questioned.

"I felt responsible for Sirius turning to the Dark Lord the way he did. I should have given him more guidance while he was at Hogwarts. So I have …"

"_More guidance_? You pampered the mutt too much as it was!" Severus cut in.

"Perhaps Severus, however he needed it with the family he came from. I really thought he was on the side of the light, and never imagined he would betray James and Lily like that. To this day, I wonder what really happened, and have hopes that there is an explanation that we just have not uncovered. I have Sirius's power of attorney so I have been keeping tabs on his inheritance to make sure the Ministry, or some of Sirius's 'darker' cousins, don't take advantage of his situation, and plunder it. But the fact that the taxes are being paid by the Potter vault does explain one thing that has had me quite puzzled for some time …"

"What is that Albus?" Elphias urged.

"Among his holding is the Black's family house, which is occupied only by Kreacher, the Black family house elf. Who, now that he has no one to serve, has nothing but time on his hands. As Sirius' estate executor, I felt responsible for him. Therefore, I requested Kreacher come to Hogwarts one day each season, and assigned him the task of cleaning my personal quarters."

"I thought the Hogwarts house elves took care of your quarters," Minerva spoke up.

"They do. It was really just an excuse to make sure Kreacher was still in good health, and not in want of anything. Whenever I have inquired if he needed anything for the house, and brought up the questions of finances, he simply replied that he had taken care of the Noble House of Black. I was wondering how he was doing that under the circumstances, however he never answered except in riddles, and House Elves are notoriously difficult to Legilimens."

"That still doesn't explain why Black's taxes were paid by the Potter's," Sturgis kept gnawing on the same question as if it were a bond.

"I suppose, as Sirius Black was Harry Potter's godfather, the goblins could have made the connection and felt justified in approving the disbursement request to pay the taxes. Alternatively, it could have been an accounting error, although that is highly unlikely knowing the goblins work ethic and notorious accuracy. But it does give one pause to wonder, doesn't it?" Albus wrinkled his brow in thought. "Kingsley I want to thank you for all your diligence into looking into this matter. It has been very enlightening. Unless you have anything else to report, I admit I am curious about Arthur's report. Shall we hear from him next?"

"That's all I had." The stoic Auror said checking his notes one more time before flipping the pad closed. "Arthur, the floor is yours."

"Thank you Kingsley." Arthur rose and limped to the centre of the room, after one more apologetic look at Molly. "I was also asked to look into the inner workings of the wards, only with a focus on this." He pulled a deep blue glowing marble out of his pocket and placed it on the desk in front of Dumbledore.

"I've see that before!" Hestia Jones chimed in. "That's your marble Albus! I've never seen you without it. But what does it have to do with this?"

Albus picked up the glowing object and fingered it with a sigh of regret. "When I left Harry at his relatives all those years ago I charmed this marble to tap into the magical core within the wards, as a monitor of sorts. It changes colour according to the moods of the monitored wizard, that way I could continuously check on Harry's welfare. Even as far away as here at Hogwarts."

"I've heard of new mothers doing something similar for newborns as a baby monitor. So what does the blue mean?" Hestia asked curious.

Albus waived his hand tiredly at the question, so Arthur finished the explanation for him.

"Blue is peaceful, most likely sleeping. Since I have been watching it for Albus, it has gone through blue, green, gold and yellow. It even turned purple once. However, there has been no red, which would be ill, and definitely no black, which would be danger. The question that Albus posed was, how was the marble able to function if Harry was dead? I went with Kingsley to the muggles residence while he rechecked the wards. While we were there, a young blond boy arrived and entered the residence. A little while later we could hear him laughing in the house, when he laughed the marble changed colour. The boy was Harry Potter's eleven-year-old cousin, Dudley. The marble is tied to him, so the wards must be tied to him as well."

"Arthur, I'm confused … at least one of the parties of blood wards has to be magical and Albus said that Harry's aunt and uncle were muggles … so how …?" Dedalus Diggle asked.

"The only thing that Kingsley and I could think of is that Dudley is a wizard."

"If that is true, why didn't he show any signs of magic? I know he hasn't, because if he had, then as Hogwart's Deputy Headmistress I would have been informed. The Ministry reports all incidents of magic in muggle born children to me so I may add them to the register and deliver their acceptance letter when they turn eleven. This is the first I have heard of a 'Dudley Dursley'. If he is a wizard and eleven, he should have received a letter this year! This is not acceptable!" Minerva asserted disbelievingly, viewing the situation as putting her professional reputation on the line.

"We believe that has to do with the additional protection added to the wards. If you remember, Kingsley said the wards prevent any type of accidental magic within them. Since accidental magic only shows up when a child has very strong emotions, if he didn't experience any of these strong emotions outside the home, it wouldn't have registered. Furthermore, as the majority of a child's time when they are young is spent at home, it is very possible he is magical and there have never been any signs that registered, because they were repressed by the wards." Arthur placated the enraged Deputy Headmistress.

Dumbledore studied the marble in his hand closely as it swirled various shades of blue indicating peaceful dreaming. "So you are telling me that for all these years when I thought I was keeping a close eye on Harry, I was really watching over the welfare of his cousin Dudley?"

"Well … er … yes … but what I think is the important issue here is that there was a_ second_ magical child. That is why the wards are still in place and why the mood marble is still working. _Your _marble _worked_ Albus, as you thought it would! _You_ didn't fail! It was just that the wards were not tied to the right child."

'_Yeah, big brother, you didn't fail … it's not your fault again … you and all your complicated intrigue, plots, and plans … you're just an old man without enough common sense to do something uncomplicated and direct like ringing a doorbell.' _Aberforth folded his arms and snorted at the positive spin Arthur was trying to put on his report for his brother's peace of mind.

"You might say the whole fiasco was a 'Dud'. Anyway, that is all I have to report," Arthur shrugged helplessly at the old wizard and then went over to sit back down next to Molly. Taking his wife's hands in his, he looked deep into her warm brown eyes.

"I am so very sorry Molly. I just didn't know how to tell you about Harry - any more than I could have found the words to tell you if it had been one of our own. We never officially adopted Harry but I know how you felt about him, I felt the same way too, and I can't say I am sorry enough. I wasn't strong enough when I should have been there for you. I should have never allowed you to find out this way. I should have told you myself - sworn to secrecy or not. You're my wife, my better half, my love. I should not have kept it from you, and I promise I will never do it again. I guess … I guess I just didn't want it to be true. As long as you didn't know, then there was still some hope alive."

"Arthur, I …" Molly couldn't find the words to continue.

"I even put his hand on the family clock. The one I made when we applied to adopt him - in the hope that it would somehow prove it wasn't true. However, the hand just went to 'Mortal Peril' and stuck there."

"So that's what happened to my clock! I notice it missing, and meant to ask."

"Yes, it's in the workshop. Once I put the hand on it, I just couldn't take it back off, but I also couldn't bear to look at it. I shoved it in the cupboard under the stairs to the attic loft."

"Oh Arthur!"

"Do you forgive me, my sweet?"

"Always and forever, my love. However, I still want my clock back," Molly leaned over to give him a kiss.

"AHEM! Perhaps we could get on with the meeting. Unless of course, everyone else has a desire to watch a new Weasley in the making." Severus sneered, slightly nauseated at Arthur's heartfelt apology and Molly's reciprocating public display of affection. "Anybody? No? Well then, we are all agreed. On to the werewolf then, you have the floor." Severus Snape nodded to Remus Lupin to move it along.

Remus took the floor reluctantly, shooting looks at Kingsley Shacklebolt, who just nodded in agreement with Severus.

"I wanted to make my report to Albus in private instead of before the full Order, because I am not really positive what it is I found out. That isn't quite right, I am sure of _what _it is, just not _why_ it is, or for that matter why it was _where_ it was when I found it. And then I imagined … we'll I am not really sure if I imagined it or not …"

"Just get on with it wolf, I haven't got all night." Severus needled him.

"The name is 'Remus', kindly remember that." Remus Lupin said evenly his eyes glinting a dangerous gold.

"Please Remus, whatever it is, we are all friends here. And we should all hear it, 'nothing held back', remember?" Albus prompted him.

"I'm sorry Albus, it's not that. It is just that it doesn't have anything to do with Harry, or with what happened a decade ago. I mean, how could it?" Remus pleaded.

"Seeing as you haven't mentioned the nature of your discovery as of yet, I really couldn't venture an opinion as of yet." The old wizard pointed out. "Why don't you tell us, and then we can decide if it pertains or not?" he finished reasonably.

"It's just that James Potter was a friend of mine. His parents were more like my family, than my own. I respected them. And what I found just doesn't make sense in light of everything I have ever known, or thought I knew about the Potters." Remus paused unable to put it into words that wouldn't cast a shadow of doubt against the memory of the Potter clan. There was no way he was going to display that horrific document to the entire order. There had to be an explanation for it, and he refused to smear their family name needlessly.

"Now you have even me intrigued, don't stop now … _Lupin_. What was it you found out?" the Potions Master asked with thinly veiled curiosity.

"It really isn't any of your business Snape, and I don't feel right talking about it to anyone but the Headmaster. I owe the Potters that much. However, as I was saying earlier, it isn't _what_ I found out at Gringotts but _where_ I found it that is the important issue."

"Okay, I'll bite … _where_ did you find it? Snape asked.

"In the Potter vault."

"Then the goblins allowed you access to the Potter family vaults?" Dumbledore asked sharply.

"Yes they did," Remus sighed heavily. "As I am sure you knew full well they would."

"Alas, I was hoping for a different outcome."

"You were … _hoping? YOU WERE HOPING! __**HOPING! **_Damn you Albus! They could have been killed me! I could have ended up as dragon kibble!"

"Come, come my dear boy. That would never have happened as long as you remembered the school motto … _Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus_." He paused and looked at Remus' enraged eyes, "… never tickle a sleeping dragon."

"_Never tickle a …_ so they really _do_ have dragons guarding the vaults! You've seen them! Gringott himself could have fed me to those dragons and you _knew_ it! Why you _manipulative old …"_

"Gringott himself?"

"Yes, Gringott. He interviewed me about my 'claim'."

All side conversations stopped at that announcement. Not even the portraits made a sound until Minerva finally spoke up.

"Isn't Gringott … dead?"

"Apparently not," Snape observed dryly. "Unless the_ wolf_ is 'imagining' things again."

"Oh he is very much alive. Between Gringott, Ragnok and Griphook, I didn't think I would get out of there alive, it was … _scary_," Remus said groping for an accurate word to describe his experience and coming up woefully short.

"_Scary?_ A big bad wolf like you, _scared_ of the three little goblins? Did you think they might huff and puff and sic their dragon on you?" Snape mocked.

"They have a threat etched on the doors to Gringott's office … about goblins not just being ugly fairies … _and they mean it Snape! _ The next time you are trapped hundreds of feet underground with grinning goblins - _who won't let you leave_ – and you just see how brave you feel. Until then leave me alone."

"Why don't you both sit down?" Minerva said to divert the two men who were about to come to blows. Getting up, she moved to stand between them and take the floor herself. "On opposite sides of the room, please. Poppy doesn't need any more patients tonight."

After the two men had taken seats Minerva continued. "Albus, this doesn't make sense. Why would you send Mr. Lupin to Gringott's to begin with? Feeding the dragons notwithstanding, what did you hope to gain by it? Mr. Shackleford already discovered through the paperwork that the ministry had been passing along the costs for the wards to Gringotts. I know that the Potters were well off, however after the Ministry's extravagant bleeding of their vault every month, there couldn't be much left."

"I admit that I was holding out hope that they would not allow Remus entrance to the vaults."

"That makes even less sense. If you sent him there to gain entrance, why hope that they would deny him?"

"Because if anyone would know whether or not Harry Potter was somehow still alive, despite all evidence to the contrary, it would have been Gringotts." Albus Dumbledore looked even older than he had at the start of the meeting.

"That's true," Bill Weasley confirmed. "I'm not sure how, but the goblins do have their way of knowing the minute one of their depositors dies - no matter where, how, or why it happens. If Harry Potter had been alive, he and his guardians would have had sole rights to the vaults, Gringott's wouldn't have let anyone else in it without their express authorization."

Dumbledore rolled the marble between his fingers and sighed. "I know I was foolish to hope. However, there you have it. I am a fool. I guess there is no doubt now … Harry Potter is dead."

"You're not a fool Albus, even I …" Minerva was starting to respond when the resigned look on the discouraged headmaster's face made her stop in mid-sentence.

Dumbledore's long fingers had quit rolling the glowing marble between his palms and he placed down on the desk. The marble then promptly rolled off the edge, and bouncing gently and continued its course - across the floor and finally coming to a stop at the toe of a pair of black fashionable high-top laced-up boots, which clad the feet of one very incensed young witch.

Tonks had burst through the door just in time to hear Dumbledore's proclamation.

Bending down and picking up the shimmering orb, Tonks stalked past Minerva and placed it firmly back in the centre of the Headmaster's desk. Then she said simply, with an uncharacteristic quiet determination, "That is not true Headmaster. Harry Potter is not dead."

"My dear Miss Tonks, I am saddened to say that it is. Unfortunately, you arrived too late to hear the reports for yourself, and I just cannot go over it all again just now. Perhaps one of the others could enlighten you …"

"Headmaster, I don't mean to be disrespectful," Tonks interrupted again. "But I don't give a rat's arse_ what_ your reports say, it just isn't true. Harry Potter is NOT dead! He is very much alive. At least for now, and I …"

"Tonks! That's enough!" Kingsley Shackleford admonished her. "Next time, if you want to know what's going on so you don't make a fool of yourself, I would advise you to skip the date and get here on time. Now just be quiet and listen."

"But I …"

"No 'buts' _Nym-pha-dor-a. Now SIT DOWN!"_

Coming in behind the young witch, Mad-Eye Moody moved silently into the room and slid along the wall in the shadows, watching the exchange with interest. Kingsley had asked him to mentor Tonks, however at the moment Mad-Eye thought Kingsley was the one who needed the mentoring. Their argument was almost a repeat of the one back at the office the afternoon before. How did Kingsley expect to gain Tonks' respect as a supervisor if he wouldn't ever listen to her? Tonks sat in a chair as Kingsley had ordered her to, but was shooting daggers at her boss. If looks could kill, he wouldn't want to be Kingsley right now.

Catching Kingsley's eye Mad-Eye nodded meaningfully towards the teenaged Auror. Kingsley misread the signal, and returned a look that said he was disappointed with Moody for being late as well. Recognizing that this was obviously not the time and place to give Kingsley management tips, he decided he would just wait a bit and see how Tonks handled it first. If need be, he would step in and make sure she had her say. Not only because she deserved that opportunity as a member of the order, but because he was very curious about what she had been up to for the past two days. As riled up as she was, it had to be quite a story.

"Sorry you were interrupted Professor McGonagall," Kingsley addressed the Deputy Headmistress. 'Please continue."

"Well as I was saying - you're not a fool Albus. Even I was holding out hope when the facts were obvious. I sent a last acceptance letter out with my owl Icarus, even though I knew it was futile. After seven hundred and twenty nine letters you would have thought I would have gotten the message loud and clear, but I still sent one more, just in case. When Icarus didn't come right back, I admit my hopes grew that he found Harry and would return with a reply."

"I always knew there was a reason you were my favourite teacher Professor McGonagall," Tonks piped up.

"I appreciate the compliment, but why bring that up now Miss Tonks?"

"Well you were right not to give up, because HARRY POTTER IS NOT DEAD! HE'S AT NUM …" Tonks was practically shouting now.

"Miss Tonks! Please! I understand how you are feeling. I didn't want to believe it either, but the Headmaster is right, we must face the facts. The sooner we do the better for all," Minerva said stoically. "I appreciate you wanting to keep hope alive. I did myself, especially when Icarus finally turned up without the letter. However, my hope in vain - the letter was never delivered."

"How can you be so sure it wasn't?" Tonks asked and the glared around the room at the reproachful looks she was getting in return for her persistence. "What? I'm not allowed to ask questions either?"

"Icarus was injured by a hunter, his wing had been shot. The Weasley's found him and nursed him back to health. I dare say the letter was lost when it happened …"

"Maybe it wasn't lost Professor … maybe HARRY POTTER HAS IT BECAUSE HE …"

"As much as I would like to be on your side about this Tonks, I sincerely doubt that Icarus got the letter anywhere." Charlie Weasley butted in. "He was badly injured and barely made it to the Burrow. There is no way he could have delivered a letter with those kinds of injuries. It was a miracle we even found him in time."

"That's true Miss," Hagrid added from the back. "That was one lucky bird. I've been watching over him since Percy Weasley brought him back, and he was injured sumpthin fierce. Could'na delivered a letter in that condition. I am surprised though, that he's recovering as quickly as he is. It's almost like he had a bit o' Mother Nature's help."

"Maybe he did," Tonks thought out loud, remembering the blue aura that she had imagining seeing surround another owl and a certain boy. "Or … maybe he got help FROM HARRY POT…"

"Miss Tonks, you seem to have quite a lump on your head. I can see it from here. Has it addled your brain?"

"What?"

"Can't you see you are making an already difficult situation worse? If you persist in interrupting, I will have to … Ask. You. To. Leave." Severus Snape enunciated slowly as if he was talking to an imbecile.

"Speaking of addled brains …" Hagrid interrupted. "I think your owl is a bit o' that now Professor McGonagall. He won't answer to his name anymore, and he keeps flying in the face of every wizard that gets close. Dragging brooms over to them with his talons and pecking at their wands with his beak. It's just sad. He used to be such a reliable bird too. Best messenger you ever had."

"Maybe he is just trying to get you to help _**HARRY!**_**"** Tonks yelled, rising out of her seat.

"TONKS! What did I tell you?" Kingsley admonished threateningly with his hands firmly pressing down on her shoulders. "Now sit down and shut up, if you don't want me to put a body-bind on you. I apologize again Professor, it won't happen again. Will it _Nymphadora_?"

After this last rebuke, Tonks shrugged him off in anger. Getting up she brushed past Kingsley and stormed over to the open window behind Remus Lupin, sitting on the wide stone windowsill to sulk.

What to do? She needed help. Little one needed help. The muggles police were of no help. Since Fudge was into it up to his slimy neck, she couldn't ask the Ministry - so the Aurors were out. Her last hope was the Order, and now they weren't paying any attention to her. How many times did she have to say it? It wasn't as if she was being vague or anything. She put it quite simply and very directly. They couldn't have possibly have misunderstood. That only meant one thing …

NO ONE WAS LISTENING TO THE PINK HAIRED GIRL!

Moody watched her with concern. He wished she had picked a less precarious perch knowing her penchant for falling out of windows lately. This one had nothing but two hundred meters of air between it and the ground. As he watched her now, he could almost see the wheels turning in her head. She was up to something …

Tonks was royally fed up with how they were treating her. Here she was, the youngest person ever accepted into the Auror program but did it gain her one iota of respect? NO! Did anyone even _pretend_ to listen to her? NO! Even Bill and Charlie Weasley weren't giving her the time of day, and they weren't that much older than she was, in fact Charlie was the same age! Was it the pink hair?

'_It shouldn't matter what colour my hair is, or how old I am,'_ she thought derisively. _'My voice should carry as much weight as anyone else's. Well, almost everyone else anyway,_' she conceded. However, everyone just kept telling her to shut up and behave, as if she was a pesky child running underfoot, instead of a full-fledged member of the Order. How was she going to get their attention long enough to listen to her? If it weren't for the fact that she recognized she needed the help of every person in the room, to help her save her little one, she would have just told them all to take a flying leap off the astronomy tower.

'_Hm … flying leap - flying. What I need is corroboration from another source. I wonder if… and if I am right, it just might work… otherwise it'll only confirm their opinion that I'm a raving lunatic. Still, it's a chance since they won't listen to me. But maybe… just maybe… they would listen to …'_

Tonks leaned backwards out the window, put her wand to her throat and cast a _'Sonorus'_ amplification spell and then bellowed towards the Owlery, _**"MERCURY!"**_ The spell magnified her voice and it reverberated off from every shingle of the castle. She then punctuated her command with a piercing two-fingered ear-splitting heart-stopping whistle.

You could hear a pin drop in the crowded room as everyone abruptly ceased their conversations and turned to stare as if she had gone completely mental. Sure, they were giving her their complete attention now, but only while they determined the best way to check her into St. Mungo's mental ward, without her creating a scene.

"Ah, Miss Tonks … why don't you come away from that ledge and retake your seat?" Dumbledore asked, finally breaking the silence and indicating the chair she had vacated earlier. He smiled at her wearily, his patience wearing thin. He just couldn't deal with one more unhinged female right now, Molly was quite enough to handle. "Once you are seated, we need to wrap up this meeting. Further histrionics will get us nowhere, and we're all tired."

Tonks didn't move. She sat there grinning inanely at him, as a wave of relief washed over her at the steady beat of a pair of wings in the distance. She hadn't been wrong! Just then, a stately gray owl flew in the open window to land gracefully on the sill next to Tonks. He was one of the largest and most impressive owls she had ever seen, one that she had seen many times at Hogwarts. He was Professor McGonagall's personal owl Mercury, formerly known as Icarus.

'_Hoooottt!' _Mercury nuzzled Tonks appreciatively at her use of his new preferred name.

"Icarus!" Minerva gasped in shock at seeing her owl. Not only had his wing mended, and he was flying again, but also he went to Tonks instead of to her? "How …? What …? Why …?"

"Why did he come to me? Because I called him by his name."

"His name is _Icarus_, and he hasn't responded to it in days."

"That's because someone gave him a new name … 'Mercury', and he seems to like it better. Don't you?" Tonks crooned at the bird who responded by fluffing up his feathers to look even more important and more regal than normal.

Tonks leaned down and whispered to the owl, "Our little one is going to be very happy to find out you are alright, he's been worried about you."

Mercury let out a mournful hoot at the mention of the young wizard and turned a stony glare on Minerva.

'_Hoooottt … if you had just listened to me earlier, we could have rescued him already! Hoooottt!'_

"But why would someone give my owl a new name?"

"Perhaps because it fit him better," Tonks said casually, nonchalantly swinging her dangling legs, and looking quite like the kneazle who caught the snidget. "You can go now Mercury, you need your rest. I can take it from here. But thank you for helping me get their attention, little one and I both appreciate it."

'_Hoooottt … anytime … however, if you don't need me I've rested enough. I'm going to go check on Hedwig and the owlet myself. Hoooottt.' _The magnificent owl gracefully took to wing and with a slow and steady beat headed for Surrey.

"Miss Tonks! Explain!" Minerva demanded in her sternest schoolteacher voice.

"Well … his feathers are rather a beautiful silver colour, like liquid mercury, and he flies with a purpose like the winged messenger in roman mythology, seems to me a natural choice for such a majestic bird." Tonks shrugged, purposely misunderstanding and drawing it out as long as possible. They ignored her and then treated her like a child. Now they can pay for it.

"That is not what I meant young lady!"

"Oh really? That's not what you meant? _**So sorry**__, Professor. Guess I __**wasn't listening **__to you either. Is it the __**pink hair**__? Is that it? Would you listen to me if I looked more like my Aunt Bella instead myself? Would any of you give me any respect then? Do I need to 'Silencio' the great lot of you, to get you to listen to me for __**ONE BLOODY MINUTE**__? _"

Tonks angrily hopped down from the sill. Coming forward, she put her hands on the back of Remus' chair and leaned forward to glare at the entire room as her hair grew heavy, long and black, and her facial features turned into the spitting image of the infamous Death Eater Bella Lestrange, right down to the brilliant blue eyes. She wasn't good at confrontation, and really preferred it when everyone just got along and was happy. That was probably the Hufflepuff in her. However, she did have a spattering of Gryffindor courage and this was important. They needed to understand that. They needed to listen to her. If throwing a monumental tantrum would get her the help she needed to save her little one, she would do it - and she would do it with flair!

Having Tonks come up so close behind him roused Remus from his introspective thoughts. Glancing up he saw his pink haired pixie hovering over him as she morphed into Bella Lestrange, looking for all the world like she was about to take on a room full of Death Eaters by herself, with nothing but her bravado and her wand. From the sparks in her eyes he would place a large wager on her winning the fight. While he was very glad he was not a Death Eater, it looked as if in her estimation that right now being a member of the Order of the Phoenix wasn't much of an improvement.

"I'm sorry … miss, you are very right. We weren't listening to you … 'Tonks' is it?" Remus apologized to the irate pixie, his blue eyes meeting her azure ones. "I don't know about the rest of this crowd however I would very much like to hear whatever it is you have to say."

Then to Albus he added, "I know we're all tired, but I think we can take the time."

Tonks looked at the man sitting in the chair in front of her, and actually saw him for the first time. It was the man from the restaurant! She blushed to the roots of her ebony hair remembering the hamburgers and chips she had appropriated from him. She had never thought she would run into him again, and yet here he was, and he was actually listening _to her_ Tonks, the pink haired girl - the one that no one ever takes seriously! Gazing back into his lovely pale blue eyes and seeing only honest trust and encouragement, Tonks fell head over heels in love.

While all this was going on, Mad-Eye Moody had been standing silently in the back of the room, leaning against the wall with his arm crossed. If no one else had spoken up in support of Tonks, he would have eventually himself, as he was extremely curious about her whole evening. However, it was better that she found her voice on her own, it was the only way she would be able to command the respect she was due from the other members of the Order, and the only way they would quit treating her like a junior member.

"I second that," Moody concurred, giving Tonks a wink and a confident nod. "It's about time we listened to the pink haired girl for a change. And by the way Tonks, I for one, do prefer that to the Bella look-a-like model." Tonks broke her gaze with Remus and looked around the room. Seventeen pairs of eyes locked on hers as she changed back to her favourite bubble-gum pink hair and dark sparkling eyes.

"Thanks … and I'm sorry for the tantrum. It's just that this is SO important, and the question really isn't _why_ someone gave your owl a new name, Professor McGonagall. The question is … _who_ gave it to him." Tonks said pausing for dramatic effect. The anger was draining out of her, now that she finally had their attention, however she was still a little too miffed at their earlier attitude towards her, to answer the question outright. After all, payback is payback.

"_**WHO!"**_ the entire room shouted in unison.

"Harry Potter … that's who. I saw him not an hour ago," she said nonchalantly as she studied her nails intently. If the crowd was quiet before when she let out her whistle, it was nothing compared to this. Even the portraits were holding their breath, and the perpetually moving silver trinkets stopped in mid twirl and beep, suspended in nothingness as if time had stopped and the world had frozen over.

"Er … do you mind if I sit here?" Tonks asked but didn't bother to wait for an answer as she plopped down in an empty chair next to Remus and smiled at everyone demurely.

"Um … are you … are you serious? Because if you're not …" The flicker of interest in Remus' eyes turned once again into pain at the thought of what he had lost.

"Yes I am - dead serious. I said Harry Potter, and that's whom I mean. He's the one that renamed Mercury. And a fine job he did too," she said smiling fondly at the thought of her little one.

Snape snorted. "Your prank is failing to amuse. You should have listened to your boss and not been late for the meeting. Obviously, you have missed the entire point."

"What do you mean?" Tonks asked her eyes narrowing at his tone.

"As we have been discussing all night, Harry Potter is dead. Professor Dumbledore is going to announce it on September first."

"With all due respect, I don't know where you or the Headmaster got your information, but it's a tab premature. As _**I **_have been trying to tell ever since I got here, Harry Potter is _**not**_ dead - at least not yet." Tonks challenged him, jumping to her feet too fast and getting dizzy from her concussion. "OW! That smarts!" she said dropping back down heavily and missing her chair, landing instead in the lap of a very startled Remus.

'_I could really get used to this,_' he thought as he grabbed her around her slim waist to prevent her further fall.

"And why do you think that our information is incorrect, when far more experienced wizards than you have investigated and found it factual?" Snape sneered.

"Because I had a date with Harry this very evening, and I think I would have noticed a little something like him being dead. It would have been a trifle hard to miss," she retorted.

A familiar scent roused Remus from his funk as he held Tonks. There was that scent again! The same one he smelled at Gringotts. Glancing at the pixie on his lap, he saw the brownish red smears littering her attire - blood! Familiar blood! He hadn't been imagining it, but how did it get on this very furious young woman? Could it really mean what he thought it might? NO! He shook himself back to reality. He didn't want to start down that path. It would hurt like hell to get his hopes up again if it turned out to be a prank as Severus suggested. However … if there was even a glimmer of hope, he had to risk it. He owed that much to James and Lily.

"Ah yes … your 'date'. Wasn't he the one for which you stole my dinner?" Remus asked with a sardonic little smile on his lips. Damn, it was a prank, he thought as he remembered it was a large man in the shadows of the porch, not a young boy.

'YES! YES!" Tonks yelled and threw her arms around his neck in a hug. Someone was finally paying attention! He was her knight in shining armour! As his question broke the floodgate of her pent up words, they started tumbling out a mile a minute.

"ineededtofeedhim … theywerestarvinghim … ifoundhimyesterday … whenIfollowed … wellthatdoesnt … matterrightnow … maybeitdoes… butidonthaveanyproof … whatimeantosayisthat … ifoundalittleboy … atfirstithought … hewasamuggleboy … buthehadthegreeneyes … andblackhair… andhehad … thelightningboltscar … onhisforehead … sowhoelsecould … hepossiblebe? … andhesintrouble … itriedtokidnaphim … togethim … outofthatplace … buthehadthis … metalband … aroundhisneck… itriedtotakeitoff … andinsteadi … almostkilledhim! ineedhelp! heneedshelp! Pleasehelpme … savelittleone! _PLEASE!"_

Tonks stopped to breath and looked into his eyes but only saw bewilderment. Taking a glance around the room, no one seemed to be understanding the importance of immediate action either. No one was moving!

"Weneedtomakeplans! Weneedtogetgoing! **NOW!** WHYISN'TANYONEMOVING!"

"Er … Miss Tonks?" Tonks looked over at Albus Dumbledore. Gratefully he was the only one that didn't seem the least bit confused by her story. If anything, for the first time that evening he suddenly looked alert. "Might I inquire … _who_ was it that you were following?"

"The toothache and the toad."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows questioningly at that description.

"Excuse me … I mean Cornelius Fudge and Dolores Umbridge," Tonks said with venom dripping off from every syllable of their names.

"Ah … I see," Albus Dumbledore said knowingly, leaning back in his chair and steepling his hands together on the desk in front of him. "I am now in agreement with Remus. I believe we would all enjoy listening to a much slower accounting of your 'date' with Harry."

"Then you think it might be true? Harry might not be … dead?" Remus asked with hope once again alive in his expressive eyes.

"As the young lady said … she would have noticed a little thing like that," a small smile reappearing at the corner of his mouth once more.

Tonks rose out of Remus' lap and took the floor.

"Where do I start?" She said out loud, pricking Moody's conscious at cutting her off the day before when she asked him the same question. In response, he had given her bad time about dating a muggle. Perhaps he should have taken his own advice and listened to her then.

"I always found the middle to be a good place to start practically anything," Albus replied sagely.

"The middle? Most people say to start at the beginning … or at the end," she said throwing Moody a look saying that she hadn't totally forgiven him for that one either.

"I find if you start in the middle you can go either way. If you start at the beginning, it could be too long a journey, from the end - far too short."

"Okay then, the middle it is … yesterday met this little boy and I promised I would come back. So tonight …" Tonks dove into her tale after taking a deep breath. Finally having everyone's undivided attention, she told them all about her little one and everything that had happened that night.

When she finished she was totally drained and her head had started throbbing again.

'_At least,' she thought with relief. 'I finally have the help I need to save my little one. They're finally listening to the pink haired girl! At least I think they are. It's a little hard to tell with a head injury.'_

Tonks frowned slightly as she looked at the various reactions on the faces around the room.

'_Nancy Ann Tonks - Metamorphmagus Magnificent, Hogwarts Hufflepuff Class of 1990 Summa Cum Laude, Prankster Extraordinaire, Amazing Auror, Esteemed Member of the Order of the Phoenix, Order of Merlin First Class. Ha-ha! Well that last bit is a little premature, but the rest is accurate. I mean … not THAT exaggerated anyway. My name could have been 'Nancy Ann'. It means 'graceful', and I am graceful… sort of … at least I was in the garden tonight and it is much better than 'Nymphadora Andromeda', which means "Gift of the Nymphs'. Besides, this is my delusion is it not?' _

Tonks thoughts rambled on in a higgledy-piggledy fashion as she waited for her story to spur the rest of the Order into action.

'_Maybe that bump on my head was a little harder than I realized, but they don't seem to be doing anything, or are they? Everything in the room seems to be a bit woozy and out of focus. Perhaps they're moving and I just can't tell. Oh look! Is that a crumple-horned snorkack? No … just Professor Snape looking at me like I'm a blibbering humdinger.'_

Unfortunately, while Tonks story received many reactions, it didn't get the one reaction she had been counting on the most … immediate action with a full-blown all-out massive assault on Number 4 Privet Drive. Instead, the reactions from around the room were a mixture from one extreme to the other.

Kingsley was shaking his head his disbelief. Not disbelief over her story, he thought all along that something was fishy about the whole Privet Drive setup. No his disbelief centred on how pigheaded and intolerant he had been toward his new employee. He had accused Albus in his mind of not being an effective leader, and not listening to the advice of others. However, he was no better. Tonks had tried to tell him several times what was going on, and what she had found, but he never listened to her once.

Molly was sobbing loudly again. Her volume and pitch only surpassed by that of Hagrid's moans. This time however, a very pale faced and remorseful Arthur was holding her in his arms comforting her. Both of their boys looked shaken at the turn of events. They had just come to grips with the knowledge that the Boy-who-lived was dead, and now to find out he was alive - but abused, was hard for them to fathom. Neither of them had ever known of child abuse in the real sense. They had heard rumours that it existed from their muggle-born schoolmates, but their tales was nothing like this. It just couldn't be real! Tonks had to be making it up!

Minerva McGonagall had clenched her teacup so tightly it had shattered, sending droplets of tea everywhere. The droplets transformed as they fell into little red-hot cinders that burned holes into everything on which they landed. If she had only known what those muggles had really been capable of, she would have gone with her gut instincts. She had wanted to hide and stay behind, and then steal baby Harry off the doorstep after Albus left. However, what was worse was that she did know. She did know they were the worst sort of muggles imaginable. She knew, and yet she did nothing. She would never forgive herself. She supposed the ministry had been right after all - she didn't have the maternal instinct after all.

Arabella sat next to Minerva trying to dodge the burning embers, which were threatening to set fire to her cherished bits of cardboard. She wasn't surprised in the least by Tonks revelations of her appalling neighbours.

Remus frankly, had stopped listening completely as soon as Dumbledore answered his question in the affirmative. All he could think about was his cub still being alive. Harry was alive! Alive! Alive! Alive! The word roared in his ears, blocking out everything else. Harry was alive and his beautiful, intriguing, and thoroughly wonderful in every way pink haired pixie was the reason. He had been drowning in sorrow, and she had thrown him a life preserver. She had pulled him back from the cliffs of despair just as he was about to jump. She had put out the fire of anguish, which had been consuming his soul.

At that moment, Remus vowed he would forever do anything Tonks ever asked of him. He would be her slave for life … wait a minute … slave? Remus frowned … where did he just hear that word? Tonks story started slowly to seep into his foggy brain.

Meanwhile, Snape looked highly sceptical about the whole account. He remembered Tonks and her antics at Hogwarts. She was always imaginative, but he never thought she would go this far with a prank, or be this cruel. He would never have thought it of her. The rest of the order had been left speechless, stunned, surprised or shocked, or a combination of all of them. On the other hand, Dumbledore's reaction was unique among the group. It was one of pure unadulterated joy.

"Ah! But this is utterly delightful!" the old wizard smiled broadly, his eyes twinkling madly. In his relief, he momentarily forgot there were others in the room who might not appreciate his description of the news. He was painfully reminded of their presence when a pair of hands suddenly flew across his massive desk and closed around his throat in a vice grip. The weight of his attacker knocked him from his chair with a tremendous crash to the floor, scattering lemon sherbets along the way like little bits of solidified sunshine.

"_WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT ALBUS? WHAT ABOUT __**ANY**__ OF THIS IS EVEN REMOTELY __**DELIGHTFUL!**_" Remus snarled at him as he straddled the very stunned wizard and proceeded to throttle the living daylights out him. "_TELL ME_ _RIGHT NOW. __**WHERE. IS. MY. CUB?**_"

It took every man in the room to battle Remus' werewolf strength and break his grip on Dumbledore throat. Kingsley, Mad-Eye, Sturgis and all three Weasley men, finally managed to pull him off and thrust him into Hagrid's grip to restrain him. Later, though none of them would admit to it, each one of them secretly wished it had been their hands around his throat. Nor would they own up to the momentary delay they each had in responding to help the old wizard, although they all knew it was true as well. Somehow, seeing Albus choked in the same manner that Tonks had just described Harry choked by the band around his neck, seemed entirely appropriate.

"_**SOMEBODY TELL ME**_ _**RIGHT NOW WHERE HARRY IS OR I SWEAR I WILL KILL THE OLD COOT! KINGSLEY! ARTHUR! YOU HAVE THE ADDRESS! I KNOW YOU DO! YOU'VE BEEN THERE! GIVE IT TO ME RIGHT NOW!**_"

"Remus! Remus! Please! See reason!" Elphias tried to rationalize with the best of intentions, as the temperature in the room was just below 'incendiary'. "Albus is just an old man - human like the rest of us. Are you saying you never made a mistake that cost someone else dearly?"

'_**BE CAREFUL OLD MAN OR YOU'RE NEXT! THE ADDRESS NOW! OR SOMEONE IS GOING TO REGRET IT, AND IT WON'T BE ME!" **_Remus struggled against Hagrid's grip, punching him as hard as he could in the stomach in an attempt to free himself. The half-giant barely noticed.

"Remus - drink this now!" Suddenly Poppy was standing in front of him, thrusting a vile of calming draught into his hands, and demanding his instant obedience. Conditioned from years of her administering monthly wolfsbane treatments, he instinctively downed the vile at her command in one gulp - without thinking about what it might be.

"Thank you for alerting me Hestia. I think he will be fine now," the mediwitch said, seeing her patient start to relax as Hagrid eased him into a chair.

"Will you watch him for me please Hagrid?"

"Yes Ma'am. I'll make sure he behaves himself." The half-giant assured her.

"Well, that's fine now. Unless someone else needs a draught, my work is done." Poppy looked expectantly at the crowd. Spying the pink haired Auror among them, she smiled broadly. "Tonks - you're back! I didn't see you earlier. How did your date go? Since you didn't bring your little muggle friend to visit me, may I assume all went well?"

Madame Pomfrey was completely unprepared for the reaction this simple question received. Remus started to quietly sob with his face in his hands, while Molly started another round of wailing that set Minerva and Emmeline to sniffling into their handkerchiefs, even a few of the men blew their noses loudly. Tonks stood in the middle of the chaos she had created, thankful that there was at least one calm head in the room. She could always count on Poppy.

"I can see my work here is not done after all, and I'm not sure I brought enough calming draught to go around. Headmaster, what do you want me to …" Poppy looked around puzzled, not finding the object of her question in sight. "Can anyone tell me where the Headmaster is?"

"Right …_ (cough) _… here Madame Pomfrey. Just … _(cough) … _catching my breath." The top of the Headmaster's tousled head popped up over the massive desktop. He peered remorsefully at the still enraged Remus. "I apologize to you Remus, for my unfortunate choice of words. I was merely relieved that all is not lost, and that Harry is still among the living. I in no way meant to condone the circumstances."

"I SHOULD HOPE NOT! AND I AM STILL WAITING FOR THAT ADDRESS!" Remus growled out baring his teeth. He was just as incensed as before, but this time in a slight lower volume thanks to the calming draught.

"Harry? Do you mean Harry Potter? But Headmaster, didn't you say that Harry Potter was dead?" Poppy asked confused.

"Apparently Madame Pomfrey, that debate is once again open." Severus said with scepticism. "Miss Tonks seems to have a difference of opinion on that matter."

"What do you mean Severus? Is he alive or not?"

"According to Miss Tonks, that would be yes. However, I have yet to hear compelling evidence to support her claim - only a wild tale, with as many holes in it as Remus' socks."

"What is it Snape? Are you just not man enough to admit you might have made a mistake?" Remus taunted.

"Mistake?"

"Yes - with brewing the Veritaserum. If Tonks is right, then that means you must have botched it."

"I 'botched' nothing," the Potions Master intoned, his face a perfect mask of indifference.

Severus Snape knew the brew had been perfect. He couldn't have botched it. However, in the back of his mind, he remembered the locator spell he had tried twice. Both times, it first seemed to be working, and then it found nothing. No Potter. Could it have been those added levels of wards that Kingsley mentioned? Could they have thrown off both the locator spell obscuring the boy's presence in the house, and interfered with the effects of the veritaserum, thus allowing Dursley to lie about it? It was the only rational explanation he could think of. It _certainly_ wasn't his potion - that was impossible. If Potter was alive, and he supposed there _might_ be a _remote_ possibility, then he needed to have more proof than the say so of a flighty Hufflepuff, before he would believe it.

"What do you want Snape - confirmation?" Kingsley spoke up.

"That would be desirable. I for one would rather the facts validated, preferably scientifically, before we go off half-cocked to 'rescue' someone who may not even exist. However, I would accept a second corroboration from a more reliable source."

"Mad-Eye … when you left the office, you indicated that you might be going to … how shall I put this … ah … _check up_ on Tonks tonight." Kingsley Shacklebolt hedged. "Can you confirm her story? What did you see?"

"You mean you _followed_ me?" Tonks said incredulously. It only now dawned on her how it was that Moody came to be standing over her when she woke up.

"I just wanted to make sure you had … backup," Moody said a little sheepishly, his magical eye looking everywhere but at Tonks.

"Let me get this straight Moody … you followed me, you saw what was happening … you saw Dursley hit me over the head … you saw him drag Harry back into that godforsaken house … and you _**DID NOTHING**_! How was that even remotely _BACKING ME UP_?" Even though Tonks was a good half a meter shorter than he, Moody was feeling pretty diminished by her wrath as she stared him down.

"Back off there girl, I certainly would have done something, if I had seen what was going on. I wasn't …"

"_You weren't what Moody? _You're the one always spouting Constant Vigilance! _You weren't WHAT_?"

"I wasn't there …"

"What do you mean you _weren't there_? You were there when I came to, did you follow me or not?" Tonks asked rubbing her head again. Feeling lightheaded, she leaned back to find herself suddenly supported by a pair of warm strong arms belonging to Remus Lupin. He had jumped up to catch her when she started to sway, and then sat back down with her once again securely on his lap.

"I did … at first, however I later found myself interviewing two Muggle law enforcement chaps. I was otherwise occupied, right up until I found you unconscious in the flower bed of that deserted house."

"You were doing _what_?" Kingsley questioned sharply.

"I was … er … okay, okay I admit it - I slipped up. The great Alastor Moody, Senior Auror, terror of Death Eaters far and near, blew it. I didn't think tailing Tonks on a date with a muggle would be such a tricky proposition."

"So what happen? You can't tell me you planned on, how did you put it? … 'interviewing' … a couple of muggle police officers all night long. Did they get the drop on you?" Kingsley interrogated him with narrowed eyes.

"Oops," Remus said under his breath, but Moody caught it anyway.

"What do you mean … 'Oops'? Explain yourself Lupin." Mad-Eye Moody's magical eye was boring a hole through him.

"It's just that after I … uh … 'donated' my dinner, I followed the young lady here, thinking of course that she might need some ketchup for the chips, and I … um … had a hunch … that someone might have been tailing her, so I followed her and I …"

"You what Lupin?"

"I alerted the muggle police."

"**YOU WHAT?**"

"I was concerned about the young lady, so I called in reinforcements." Remus said defending his actions.

"And may I ask, what concerned you so much since you were only 'guessing' that she might be being tailed?" Severus probed.

"Well … _(ahem) …_ She said she had a 'hot date' and I was …" Remus stopped dead. There was no way on earth he was going to admit he accidentally sent the muggle police after Mad-Eye because he was jealous. Luckily, Snape saved him by butting right back in without letting him finish answering.

"Ah … I see. So this is really all about Miss Tonk's love life after all," Snape observed dryly.

"I DON'T HAVE A LOVE LIFE!"

Tonks blushed scarlet as she realized what she had just shouted out loud. Then she blushed even deeper as she realized that Remus was now looking at her with obvious relief and a hopeful expression in his soft blue eyes. Her heart did a flip-flop. She wondered if the hope she saw in his eyes were only for Harry, or if a little smidge of it could possibly be because she had just declared to the world that she was very much available.

Taking an uncharacteristic shy glance at him one more time, she saw the hope in his eyes turn into realization as he stood up suddenly, letting her drop rudely to the floor as he made a mad dash for the fireplace. He knew where Harry was! He had been there earlier that night when he followed his pixie! He had been within meters of his cub, and he never knew it. Well, he was going to remedy that right this minute!

"Remus! Where are you going?" Albus Dumbledore called out, alerting Hagrid that he had been lax in his duty of watching the distraught wizard. Stepping quickly in front of him Hagrid blocked Remus' way to the floo.

"HAGRID, GET OUT OF MY WAY!"

"Where are yer going? Don't yer want to help save Harry?"

"THAT'S WHAT I AM GOING TO DO! IF YOU WOULD JUST **GET OUT OF MY WAY!**"

Arthur rose and tried to put a calming hand on his shoulder, but Remus roughly threw it off. "Remus, I understand. I would be right there with you in a heartbeat, but I saw those wards. They are nothing to fool around with, Kingsley is right. They are even stronger than the ones here at Hogwarts. You won't do Harry any good by yourself. We need to plan."

"Arthur … if you don't want Molly to be a widow, I would advise you to move … _now_," Remus said evenly.

"Hagrid, can't you control him?" Snape asked impatiently.

"Well wha' yer expect me to do? Yer know I'm not supposed to do magic."

"Then. Sit. On. Him."

"Oh!" Hagrid said surprised at the idea. "I can do that."

"Then do it," Snape clipped.

"Excuse me for interrupting your important secret meeting again, but before I go - could you explain. Because I still don't understand … the Headmaster told me earlier that Harry Potter was dead. Now you say he's alive … but how?" Poppy asked looking questioningly at Tonks.

"It's little one … the little boy I was telling you about … he IS Harry Potter. And he is NOT dead," Tonks said firmly. "At least not yet."

"But that can't possibly be!" Poppy gasped sitting down heavily in a chair hurried scooted under her by Charlie.

"That is my opinion as well Madame Pomfrey," Severus agreed.

"Harry Potter is a wizard. I gave him his twelve-month well baby check-up myself. He was definitely not a muggle, or even a squib for that matter - no offense Arabella. The little boy you told me about … you said that the people he is living with abused him. No magical child could ever be abused! Their accidental magic would protect them. Your little friend can't possibly be Harry Potter."

"I can't explain it Poppy, but it's true, I saw the scar on his forehead. It's Harry. I know it. I think maybe I even knew it all along, and that's what made me keep going back to try and help."

"I think I can explain," Kingsley spoke up and the room silenced once more. "It's those blasted wards. The same wards that suppressed Dudley's magic, so we didn't know he was a wizard, would have suppressed Harry's as well since he is of the same blood line."

"But why would such a provision even been added to the wards?" Poppy asked. "Accidental magic is there for a reason, it should never be repressed. It is part of a magical child's normal development. It would be very detrimental to suppress it!"

"I would bet it was included at the request of Harry's aunt and uncle. From what I can remember of them, they hated magic, and probably didn't feel prepared to deal with it." Molly spoke up for the first time since Poppy joined the meeting. "I never did like that horrid woman!"

"But that brings another question to my mind. If the wards suppressed Harry's magic, as well as Dudley's, why didn't the wards alert Albus when Harry was in danger, the same way they would have alerted him for Dudley?" Sturgis asked.

"I think they did … in a way," Kingsley said frowning and flipping back open his notepad. "Remember those minor fluctuations I mentioned? The Ministry claims they only indicate the wards are active and working properly. When I was there on Thursday morning, I witnessed one of these fluctuations shortly before the alleged abuser exited the residence. According to Tonks report, when she first saw Harry on Thursday night he had been recently abused. It makes me wonder if the two incidents aren't connected."

"How often were these 'spikes' registered?" Arthur asked Kingsley with trepidation.

"Several times …" Kingsley hesitate before he added, "… a day."

"For how long?"

"Since the day after the wards were installed. The first one approximately six a.m. - the same time listed as the time of death on the death certificate. Dolores Umbridge personally investigated that particular spike. The notation in the log as to the cause was marked down simply as a 'normal deviation'. Their regularity from that point forward was probably one of the reasons the Ministry continued to classified them as 'normal'. According to the watch commander, they only would get concerned if there _wasn't_ at least one spike a day."

"Did that happen often - when there were no spikes?" Molly asked hopefully.

"Sadly no Molly. The few times it happened, it was escalated up the chain, and the wards miraculously spike again, almost immediately."

"But I still don't understand completely," Sturgis remarked still struggling to reconcile all the bits and pieces of the puzzle. "Why wouldn't they have alerted Albus via his magic mood marble? I still think they would have."

"I believe it was because the marble was tied to the magical core present in the wards, which was solely Dudley's, and only used the wards to amplify the signal to reach here to Hogwarts. On the other hand, the ward alarms used the blood signature of the aunt, which was in both boys. However, since the primary protection of the wards was set to Dudley, Harry's danger only showed up as minor spikes and fluctuations."

"But you said the wards would prevent harm to the magical child," Hestia added. "Even if the wards prevented accidental magic of both Dudley and Harry, so they couldn't have protected themselves, wouldn't that provision have done that for them?"

Scanning back through his notes for reference Kingsley finally nodded with understanding. "I believe I can explain that too. The request specified only to protect the magical child '_from outside harm'. _Unfortunately no provision was made in the request to protect him from harm from those already _'within'_ the home."

"So all this was allowed to happen because of another 'unfortunate choice' of words!" Remus growled as he made a move towards Albus, only to find himself once again restrained by Hagrid.

"And that would be my fault entirely," Albus Dumbledore said sadly fingering the glowing marble out of habit.

Kingsley almost felt like forgiving the old wizard when he saw how deeply depressed he was at the monumental mess he had caused with all his clever words - but not quite.

"So it would seem Albus. Besides not protecting the child from his own guardians, the other thing the request did not specify was exactly '_which'_ magical child to protect," Kingsley finally pointed out. "Your request just said _'the'_ magical child assuming there was only one. However, since there were two, Umbridge authorizing the setting of the wards to Dudley Dursley instead of Harry Potter, would have been a natural mistake, as he was the son of the owners of the house and in residence at nine p.m. when the wards were being set. Harry Potter was not there until after the fact. You can't really blame the Ministry that Dudley wasn't the child intended, when you didn't specify Harry by name. Can you?"

"I could," Minerva McGonagall said firmly, answering for Dumbledore. "Dolores Umbridge knew _exactly _who that protection was meant for. She was the one that insisted he had to be placed there. Using Dudley instead of harry could not have been a _mistake _on the Ministry's part, it had to have been done on purpose, and I can draw my own conclusion from whom she got that idea! And there is no way you can convince me otherwise."

"While that may be true Minerva, there is no way to prove it." Dumbledore said shaking his head. "I am just as culpable for the abuse Harry suffered as I was when I felt responsible for his death, even though we know now that wasn't true."

"But it was true!" Arabella piped up for the first time all evening.

"There, there, my dear." Minerva patted her hand patronizingly. "I know it must have been difficult for you to keep up with the conversation, but we have come full circle on that one. Harry is alive, not dead."

"I'm a squib Minerva - not an idiot," Arabella returned. "And all I am saying is that Harry _did _die, Kingsley saw the death certificate, and I have the clippings to prove it right here in this scrapbook. Besides Albus, I don't understand why all of this is coming as such a surprise to you."

"What do you mean Arabella?" Dumbledore asked with obvious bewilderment as he caught her eyes and stared deeply into them.

"You've been making yearly visits to the Dursley's. You can't tell me that you never once noticed, in almost a decade, that they were abusing him as Tonks described."

"I've only been there once since I left him - last Wednesday evening for dinner. Remember? Severus and I saw you on our way through."

"I'm not talking about last Wednesday night. I am talking about every November first when you show up like clockwork, and waltz into Petunia's house like you own it."

"Ah … I can see that I did indeed. What was the purpose of my visit? Did I say?" Dumbledore asked as he continued to covertly rummage through her memories, wading through bits of fluff and the occasional fur ball, to find the images of himself he was seeking.

"No, you never stopped in. I tried to catch you a few times, but never succeeded, even though I am sure you saw me trying to get your attention."

"I can see that now. That was quite rude of me wasn't it? However, I can assure you that it was not me whom you saw my dear. I am afraid I have been impersonated."

"I would know you anywhere Albus that was definitely you!"

"It was and it wasn't Arabella, I suspect polyjuice potion."

"Polyjuice!" Minerva breathed, "But whom …? How …? Why …?"

"I can deduce the whom, and possibly the how, but I am at a loss to explain the why."

"Okay who?" Aberforth asked while adding in the back of his mind _'… are you going to blame it on this time?'_

"I should think that is quite obvious. Who would have something to gain in casting culpability for his less than honourable deeds elsewhere?"

"Oh! I know! I know! The toothache!" Tonks shouted as she stood up and waved her hand in the air as if she was back in class. "In fact, I am almost sure I heard Vernon Dursley mention Fudge after I was hit over the head."

"Very good Miss Tonks, it seems the blow didn't entirely addle your brain. Ten points for Hufflepuff. Do you want to try for twenty and explain the how as well?" Severus granted generously.

Tonks glared back at the sarcastic man, the intensity of her stare in the brightly lit office causing her to wince slightly.

"I think the how, is a bit more convoluted Severus." Albus said getting up and starting to pace. "And once again I believe I have been the cause of my own folly."

"Explain please," the Potions Master asked intrigued, long since forgetting his cherished bubbling brews below in the dungeons.

"Kreacher - the Black family house elf. He had access to my personal quarters, and could have gathered up my stray hairs and sold them to Fudge."

"That's insane! House elves have no use for money," Mundungus countered. He should know. He'd tried several times to bribe Kreacher to allow him access to plunder the Noble House of Black.

"Normally true, however Kreacher is not known for his sanity. In addition, he possesses an unusual sense of loyalty. Lastly, is the not so insignificant fact that the Ministry has been paying the property taxes for the House of Black from the Potter's vault. Perhaps it was not an error in accounting after all, but payment for services rendered."

"But why would Kreacher do that, knowing the detrimental magic that can be done against a wizard with a single strand of his hair. It would be totally irresponsible! Not to mention disloyal!" Minerva stated categorically.

"Alas, I am afraid that even though he regards Sirius as a traitor to the House of Black, he is nonetheless still a Black, and Kreacher's master. Kreacher holds me personally responsible for Sirius being in Azkaban and for shaming the Black family name, and had made no pretence otherwise. I do believe I mentioned he had an unusual sense of loyalty did I not? Nevertheless, that is not worries me. What I am concerned about is the why of it. I feel that that is probably the crux of the issue. Why would Fudge visit the Dursleys disguised as myself? Why? What would he gain by the deception?"

Albus Dumbledore was normally very good at reading between the lines, he not only read between the lines, he could lift them off the page, and turn them into string art. He was a veritable maestro at it. On the other hand, when presented with a puzzle that was not of his own making, it had a tendency to occupy his every waking and sleeping thought until he could fathom out the intricacies. This particular conundrum was going to plague him if he didn't figure it out. He just knew it.

"Er … I suppose in light of what Miss Tonks has told us … that maybe … well perhaps …" Remus hesitated.

"Spit it out man," Snape snarled. This was getting to be an exceedingly long meeting and he was starting to lose his well-known patience.

"I will Snape, just give me a minute. This is not easy for me. It is just that perhaps what I found at Gringotts … maybe it does have something to do with Harry after all." Under his breath he added,_ '… but Merlin I hope not.'_

"What is it Remus?" Albus inquired. "Frankly, I have been quite curious, however I didn't want to pressure you to report something you didn't feel comfortable disclosing."

"What? You didn't want to pressure him? More special treatment for the Marauders?" Snape sniped incredulously, thinking back on all the times he had felt pressured by Albus for a lot less.

"Not at all Severus, but where Gringotts is involved there are definitely other factors to take into consideration." Dumbledore said dismissing his Potion Master's obvious irritation before turning back to Remus once more. "Why don't you tell us what you found?"

"As I said earlier I was shown in to see Gringott himself about the Potter vaults. I felt like he was interrogating me instead of the other way around. The after I left his office, I realized he had never answered any of my questions at all, and succeed in getting me to do exactly what he wanted me to instead."

"That's what I always heard Gringott was like," Bill added nodding his head knowingly. "What was it he wanted you to do?"

"Well after reading the poem on his door warning against making idle claims - I did everything I could to make sure I didn't ask for any information I shouldn't. Which was hard because everything I had to ask was something I thought I didn't have any business doing, however by the end of the conversation he had me requesting to inspect the Potter vaults to make sure everything was in order. Two of his goblins took me down, and then it felt as if they were not going to let me leave until I discovered whatever it was that Gringott had sent me down there to find. Only problem was that they wouldn't say what that was. They just kept blocking the door every time I started to leave and would only answer in riddles."

"That would be in keeping with Gringott's code of ethics," Bill acknowledged. "The goblins always stick to their moral high road, and their policy of not meddling in the paltry affairs of wizards. But they are definitely not above manipulating a situation if it suits their needs."

"Bill, do you think the Goblins are working with the Ministry on whatever is going on?" Arthur asked his son.

"I wouldn't think so. If they were backing the Ministry in whatever it is, they would have just fed Remus to the dragons and been done with it. They certainly wouldn't have been trying to help him find something without divulging anything more than their confidentiality rules allow, which is zilch. From the sounds of it, that is exactly what they were trying to do. Seems to me Gringott did everything but spell it out for you Remus. I've never heard of any of the goblins bending the rules that far," Bill said in awe.

"So other than the goblins acting strange and spouting riddles, and what did you say earlier? Oh yes… 'grinning' at you. What did you find down below?" Severus asked nonchalantly. He was really extremely curious as to what would be so all fired important in his nemesis' vault, that Gringott himself would come back from the dead to handle it. Thankfully, however, his spy training helped him hide the majority of his true thoughts.

"This," Remus said as he reached in his pocket and pulled out the miniaturized box. Holding it in the palm of his hand, he cast a re-enlarging spell. As it grew back to normal size Dumbledore's eyes grew wide along with it. Putting on his half moon spectacles, he rose and took the box from Remus' hands.

"Is this what I think it is?"

"No, it's only a copy. The goblins wouldn't let me take the original out of the vault."

After studying the runes that covered every surface of the ornately carved box, Dumbledore opened it and rifled through its meagre contents.

"Is this all that was in the original - the one sheet of parchment, and the ledger, nothing else?"

"Yes, that was all. What else did you expect to find Albus?"

"Probably nothing of importance, however after reading the runes, I thought for a moment that … No, I won't speculate. Let me take a look at these documents first and then we will discuss it."

Dumbledore sat back down at his desk and started reading through the contract. The farther he read the deeper the furrows on his brow became. Then he picked up the ledger and thumbed through it as well.

"This can't be!" he breathed and slammed the little ledger down on his desk with disgust. Getting up, he went to his bookshelves and took down several ancient and dusty volumes. Pouring through them feverishly, he finally located the information he was seeking in a small black leather book, whose pages were crumbling with age. Sitting back in his chair, he looked as though he had aged another hundred years in a matter of seconds. The hope that he would still be able to fix everything, the hope that had been growing ever since Tonks said that Harry was alive, started to wither. If what he suspected was true, then he had little hope of making amends to the boy. He had condemned him to a life worse than death.

"What is it Albus?" Minerva asked rushing to his side. "Poppy, help me! I think he's having a stroke!"

"Ladies, ladies … I am quite all right. I am not the one to be worried about." He waved them away. "I am afraid that Tonks report was all too accurate."

"Which part of that obviously highly embellished tale are you referring to?" Severus asked.

"The part about Harry believing himself to be a slave," Albus said in a drained voice.

"Surely you jest! That was the most preposterous part of her yarn. The slavery statutes have been wiped off the books for hundreds of years, so unless you are referring to the Dark Lord and how he treats his minions, I am not buying it." Severus snorted.

"But if you would just listen …" Tonks interrupted, just to have Severus put up his hand to quiet her.

"Alas, you are very correct Severus. All the slavery statues were repealed in the name of common decency … with apparently a tiny exception." Albus handed him the book and pointing out a passage.

"What's this?"

"They missed one," he said simply.

"They what?"

"The missed one," Albus repeated. "I can see how it could have happened - it was in a book on Elvin laws, however at the time it was written Wizard, Elvin, and Goblin law were all one. The document that Remus found is a slavery contract from an extremely barbaric period in our history." Albus said with palpable sorrow in his voice. "In essence it forced the parents to condemn their first born son, shortly after birth, to be bound irrevocably into slavery in repayment of a life debt owed to another.'

"But what parent would ever do such a thing to their child?" Emmeline gasped.

"The statute didn't give the parents much choice. If the one owed the debt, insisted that the debt could only be satisfied with this method of payment, and the parents did not agree, then they forfeited not only their own lives but the life of the child as well, in compensation of non-payment. So as appalling as it may seem for them to agree to it, at least this way the child would live, and the parents could hope to persuade the one they owed the debt to, to relent the method of payment.'

"But how could they relent, you said it was irrevocable?" Hestia questioned.

"I believe I can answer that one for you Albus, if I may." Elphias wheezed and he joined the conversation. "Much to my family's disgrace, we had a particularly nefarious ancestor hundreds of years ago, Ferreus Doge, who made use of that particular statute several times. The key to remember was that it was normally just used as a blackmail threat, to control other wizards to do their bidding, and child was actually never made a slave, but the threat alone was enough to bend most parents to his will."

"Ferreus would contrive a situation where he would in essence 'rescue from certain death' an adversary and force them to sign the contract outlined in the statue. The provision of which, condemned their child to be raised as a slave. A paid trainer normally took care of the slave's upbringing. The trainer would then turn the boy over to Ferreus when he became of age, or when the training was deemed sufficient, whichever came first. At that time, Ferreus would have to complete the binding ritual described in the contract to make it irrevocable. If he had not completed it by the time the sun rose five hundred times after the child's coming of age, the child was once again free of the parent's debt. In addition, until the binding was complete, the parents had the hope of convincing Ferreus of accepting another form of payment and releasing their child. The parents lived for this hope. In the meantime, Ferreus would bleed them dry of their money and estates, and in truth, making them slaves themselves. They would do whatever he requested of them, in return for delaying sending their child to the training camps, which were designed to be particularly brutal - again for the fear factor. Many new parents would go into hiding for the first five hundred days of their firstborn son's life to avoid become victims of the statute."

"But how could this contract possibly be about Harry?" Remus pleaded in horror of the ramifications of what Elphias was saying. "James and Lily would never have done it! Besides, the Dark Lord killed them. They owed no one a life debt. It couldn't possibly be … could it?"

"Sadly, yes. Don't misunderstand me Remus - I am not saying James and Lily would have accepted this," Albus said in explanation. "What I am saying is that I do not believe it was James or Lily's life debt, but that of Harry himself."

"What do you mean Albus? Harry lived through the attack."

"The Dark Lord's attack he did. However according to the muggle coroner, he did not live though my benign neglect the night I left him on the doorstep - he died of hypothermia. From the articles I have been reading in Arabella's scrapbook I suspect that what happened was that it was somehow reversed."

"Hypothermia! That would explain it." Poppy agreed. "Hypothermia causes the bodily functions to slow to a point where the heart stops. In muggles this would mean certain death, even though in the case of cold water drowning, even muggles have been know to be brought back to life, if they are attended to soon enough. However, in the case of a wizard, his magical core would have prolonged this window of time. Harry could have been brought back to life after the muggle coroner pronounced him dead, if his aunt and uncle brought him in where he could thaw out. If so, then Harry would have been the one who owed the life debt to his relatives. For even as a wizard, you can't stay frozen forever without it causing permanent damage or death."

"But Harry … he was already a year and a half … he wouldn't have fit the criteria … would he?"

"Again, yes. By my reckoning, on the day I left Harry, he was four hundred fifty eight days old. Forty-two days shy of being safe from the statute."

"Still … with James and Lily dead … they couldn't have signed Harry into slavery!"

"True, but remember the Ministry placed custody of Harry with his aunt and uncle, giving them all the same rights as parents. If they were the ones who bound him to the contract, and also the ones the debt was owed too," Albus continued sadly, "then there was no one to object to the method of life debt repayment - other than Harry himself. And I believe that Harry's blood on the contract did, as muggles like to say … 'seal the deal'."

"But why would anyone ever write such a statute to begin with? What would the purpose have been?" Molly asked clutching the hand of her own eldest son tightly. Her heart going out to all those mothers who had lived in fear for their children so long ago, and wondering what this all meant for her almost son.

"In the dark times centuries ago, many things that should not have been, simply were, because someone wanted it so," Elphias answered. "They had a saying … 'So it is written, so it shall be done.' Many things were written that should not have been, so unspeakable things could be done. It would be difficult now, to name the original author of the statute, or to divine his motive for doing so, but I dare say it had to be one of greed and power. I can think of no other reason."

"But why didn't the parents just take the baby and run anyway, even if they had signed the contract? Molly persisted. "I would have."

"In the dark era during which this statue was devised, the laws governing all magical creatures were more blurred. Wizards, goblins and elves lived by the same codes, all with equal status, instead of the divided worlds we have now. Part of this ancient text is Elvin, and the box is definitely goblin made. Elves were notorious for their ruthless tactics towards their adversaries, and goblins known for their cleverly wrought magical items. Much of the wording of how the master was to enforce the contract is true to the Elvin culture, and for their part, the goblins provided a magical device through which the master could control the slave no matter the distance. If the parents were to run off with the child, the master could punish the child for it and the parents would have no way of stopping it. The child could even die. There was no way to escape it." Albus supplied with a long drawn out sigh.

"I know what magical device you are referring to Albus," Snape commented. "I have heard tales as the Dark Lord had been very keen on laying his hands on one. However, even if one did still exist, or could be located, both of which is highly doubtful, it would be illegal. Just having one found in your possession is an automatic sentence in Azkaban on the same level as using an unforgivable curse."

"Yet, I fear that one does exist, and according to the runes, it should be in this very box," Albus said shutting the lid.

"No one would be foolish enough to risk it. I still say the whole scenario is suspicious. While I don't trust Dursley, and I am certain there is something wrong in that house … slavery? I highly doubt it. How would a muggle have come across such an item, one that an entire legion of Death Eaters could not locate? Even if he did, how would he know how to use it? If the boy Tonks claimed she saw was Harry Potter, I am certain nothing like that was going on, it was probably just a ploy on his part to gain sympathy. Potters were always good at that."

"What do I have to do to convince you?" Tonks asked in exasperation stalking up to Snape and poking him in the chest with her pointed finger. "We can't just sit here and talk all night! Remus is right, and if you won't let him go, I'll go back alone. I am not sitting here another minute doing nothing. I want my little one!"

"Would you submit to Legilimens?"

"If that what it will take," Tonks said gritting her teeth.

"Very well concentrate on the events of tonight … _'Legilimens' …"_

Snape said the spell and looked deep into Tonks dark eyes. Sorting through her memories was a little like rummaging through a tag sale. No wonder she always had such inconsistent grades! Her mind was a scrambled mess. He had told her to concentrate, so the memories he was seeking should have been right there in front, but they were not. Finally seeing the memories of a young black haired boy peeking shyly out from behind those of a wizard dressed all in shining white armour and riding a thestral (and looking uncomfortably to Snape like Remus Lupin), he latched on to them quickly before they darted out of sight again.

Sorting through them, he could find no deception. He saw as Tonks touch the lightning bolt scar. He saw the brilliant green eyes of his Lily looking back at him out of the pale dirty face of a frightened and hurt young boy. He saw as an older version of Petunia Evans stood on the porch and screeched at the 'freak', the same way he remembered the younger version shouting after Lily as the Hogwart's Express pulled out of the station. He saw as Vernon Dursley pulled the boy inside the house by a chain attached to a collar around his neck. He witnessed everything.

"Thank you … _Nancy Ann_." Snape said quietly to Tonks as he pulled out of her mind. "I apologize, but it was … necessary."

"Did you find what you needed to see Snape? Can we get on with this now? I have muggles to kill." Remus challenged.

"Remus, sit down." Snape snapped at the werewolf. "There will be no need for you to kill any muggles after all."

"What do you mean Snape? Is he or isn't he?" Remus asked, his roller coaster hopes, which just a moment before had been riding so high, once again plummeting into his stomach.

"I mean that you will not have to kill the muggles, because they will already be dead. I intend to do it myself." Snape stated as he headed for the floo, only to have Hagrid block his way.

"Sorry, but no one is leaving here until Dumbledore gives the word. Now sit down Professor, or do you want me to sit on you too?"

"It won't be necessary to sit on anyone Hagrid. However, I thank you for the offer." Albus said calmly. "Gentlemen, I believe we are finally all in agreement then?"

"Only if the agreement you refer to ends with Vernon Dursley in pieces." Snape said smoothly, receiving an agreeing nod from Remus.

"Bite size pieces." Remus corrected.

"As deserved as that sounds, regrettably it would probably not be the best course of action … at the moment." Albus compromised.

"And why not?" Snape returned.

"While you all have been hashing out whether or not to believe our highly credible Miss Tonks, I have been going back over the statute and the contract, and reading the fine print. The contract is genuine, and I would guess that the smudges on it are blood, more than likely Harry's, but without the original document to test it would be impossible to say with one hundred percent certainty."

"Albus, when I opened the original box at Gringotts I smelled the blood, and it smelled familiar. It is the same blood that I smell on Miss Tonks frock, so if …" Remus trailed off.

"So we can assume then that it is indeed Harry's blood," Albus continued, "which would make the contract enforceable under the statute. Although the box is a copy, it is definitely a copy of a goblin made item. However there is something missing from the box and I hesitate to say this Severus, but from your reaction after viewing Miss Tonks memories, I believe you may know where it is."

"Yes Albus, I do."

"Then I think you understand my position on this."

"Well are you bloody hell going to tell the rest of us? You've been talking in code for the last hour," Aberforth butted in. "Are we not part of this meeting anymore? What happened to 'nothing held back'?"

"Please forgive me. You are right of Aberforth." Albus apologized to his brother and the rest of the Order members. "As you will recall, Miss Tonks mentioned that Harry had a metal band around his neck, and this statement was verified by Professor Snape viewing her memories. Knowing the nature of the contract in the goblin box, I can only surmise that the metal band is actually a goblin made slave collar, of the same sort used by Ferreus Doge to control his slaves. If that is in reality the truth, then taking into account the boy's reaction when Miss Tonks tried to remove the band, then Harry has been at least partially, if not fully bound to the contract."

"So what? Why does that mean I can't kill Dursley? Seems to me that would be the perfect solution." Remus growled. "He deserves it for everything he's done. And if I were Fudge I wouldn't be going into any dark alleyways either."

"Yes he does deserve it Remus, and I dare say he deserves it for even more than you realize …" Albus stopped unable to go on.

"Elphias … there is something that Albus isn't telling us about all this. You know what it is - I can see it in your eyes. Tell me?" Remus pleaded with the old wizard.

"It's the binding ritual."

"What about it?"

"It's … I'm sorry Remus, and please forgive me ladies, but I don't know how to put this any other way than bluntly … in this case 'ritual' is actually just a euphemism for rape."

"Oh Merlin! No! That does it! I'm going to kill that monster!" Remus cried out.

"And we'll help you," Arthur declared jumping up, Bill and Charlie by his side.

"Oh no you won't boys! SIT DOWN!" Molly roared.

"Mum?" they asked, taken aback.

"My sons will_not_ be killing anyone. That is a mother's prerogative, and I claim that privilege myself." Molly declared whipping out her wand dangerously.

"Everyone! Please! Please! Calm down! Listen! There is more to it than that. You _**cannot **_kill Vernon Dursley!" Albus pleaded.

"Explain Albus! What else is there? Are you trying to say he doesn't deserve it?" Remus demanded to know.

"No quite to the contrary! However, you must listen! To complete the contract, the binding must be done three times, if all three have been completed, and for Harry's sake we must error on the side of caution and assume it has, then if you kill Vernon Dursley …" Albus stopped again dropping his head into his hands.

"Merlin! I had forgotten about that part." Elphias said in shock picking up where Albus left off. "Albus is right! You can't touch Dursley. If he completed the contract, then when he dies so does Harry. It was the ultimate protection again retribution by the parents, or retaliation by the slave."

"Merlin, NO!" The Order erupted in cries of dismay and tears.

"Calm down!" Tonks called over the din, trying her best to be heard. "No worries everyone! Calm down."

"What do you mean NO WORRIES CALM DOWN!" Remus lashed out angrily. "That animal could be attacking him right now!"

"I mean, that is one thing I can guarantee that Dursley is **NOT** doing right now." Tonks said with certainty.

"How can you be so sure?" Remus asked frowning.

"Because right before Dursley dragged him over the threshold, I hit little one with a spell … at least I think I did … I was passing out at the time."

"Your aim was true," Snape assured her. "I saw it hit him dead centre, but what was the spell?"

"_**Repello Muggletum**_**" Tonks smirked with smug satisfaction. "Vernon Dursley can't get within one meter of MY **little one unless** I **say so. And I **don't **_intend to say so."_

_At that moment if he hadn't already been utterly smitten with his pink haired pixie, Remus Lupin would have fallen hopeless lost in love. __** His heroine! As it was, it was all he could do not to pull her into an embrace and kiss her thoroughly right then and there - right on those beautiful lips, and on the tip of her pert nose, on each lovely eyelid, and down her delectable neck, and…**_

"Remus? Ah …Remus?" Albus repeated.

"What? Oh! Yes Albus?"

"I was saying we need to plan." Albus said briskly, once again taking charge. "I believe we can all agree the announcement is off. What we need to do now is to neutralize Vernon Dursley as a threat, secure Harry's ongoing safety, and finally find a way to release him from the contract, if it has indeed been completed. Drawing attention to the problem of Harry's slavery would not be the best idea. There are many on the Dark Side who may try to take advantage of the situation, and unless we are careful, we will not be able to prevent it. Since we cannot prove the Ministry's role at this point, asking for help from that source would not be prudent. In addition, someone will most certainly notice a full-scale magical assault in the centre of a muggle neighbourhood. We must come up with another way. I put it to the floor. Does anyone have a suggestion on how we can get past the wards?"

"Um …?" Arabella started tentatively.

"Yes Arabella, do you have a question?" Dumbledore asked kindly.

"No, a suggestion."

"A suggestion?"

"You were asking for suggestions were you not?"

Dumbledore sighed. They really didn't have time for this but his brother had already reminded him once that he was leaving people out of the meeting, and Aberforth was right. They were all valued members and he had ignored Arabella far too long as it was. He would just have to be patient, give her a few minutes now and let her have her say. He would let her make her suggestion, placate her, and then they could get on with the serious plans they needed to make.

"Go ahead Arabella, you have the floor."

Snape gave the headmaster a questioning look at this obvious waste of time, but Dumbledore just nodded that he meant it. Kingsley and Arthur however snickered a bit under their breath at the trying looks on the other two men's faces. They knew what Arabella was about to suggest. They already had their tickets to the Garden Fete securely in their pockets and couldn't wait to see how this little show would play out.

The mousy little squib got up and walked to the centre of the floor, a narrow strip of brightly coloured cardboard unrolling behind her as she went.

"I have tickets for sale if anyone would like one," she said holding up the strip. "Only four bob a ticket or for a pound you get six … oh right sometimes I forget where I am … let me rephrase that … only seventeen Knuts a ticket, or six for three Sickles."

"Tickets my dear? Whatever for?" Dumbledore asked patiently.

Kingsley was having a hard time controlling his laughter behind his unreadable poker face. Biting his tongue he thought, _'Yesssssss. Dumbledore deserves this, far be it for me to hurry it along.'_

In his impatience to do something, Remus started to interrupt Arabella. Arthur stilled him and whispered in his ear. Both men sat back to listen, with Remus scratching his head as to why Arthur wasn't as impatient as he was, and what he meant by 'just sit back and enjoy her show'.

"The Garden Fete of course Albus. What did you think I meant?"

"Of course," Dumbledore nodded wisely as if he had a clue about what she was talking. "Garden Fete?"

"Yes, of course. Would you like to buy a ticket?"

"And why would I want to do that my dear? The problem before us is how to get past the wards."

"I really don't see why you are having a problem with that at all Albus. After all I am willing to sell you a ticket." The feisty woman countered.

"Ah yes, a ticket … to the Garden Fete."

"Yes exactly."

"Exactly. And again … why?"

"To go to the Garden Fete of course, exactly as I have been trying to tell you Albus. Don't you find my suggestion valuable? I know it isn't as complicated as the plans you come up with, however there is something to be said for occasionally being more simple and direct, wouldn't you say?"

"I really can't be the judge of that Arabella."

"Oh! That reminds me I am need a couple of judges too. Of course, they would still have to buy a ticket."

"Here we go again," Snape snorted.

"Get all snippy with me Severus and I won't sell you one."

"As if I would want one."

"Well don't you?" Arabella asked a little hurt. "And I thought it was a good suggestion …" she trailed off.

"SUGGESTION FOR WHAT!" Snape yelled his patience snapping in two.

"Why to get past the wards of course, what else have we been talking about?"

"I have no clue what you are talking about."

"Well if you can't understand something so simple, let me explain it to you again." Arabella rolled her eyes.

"I wish you would," both Albus and Severus said in unison.

"If you want to get past the wards it is really very simple, well at least into the garden, but as I may have mentioned before the house is another matter. I didn't? … I was sure I had … well then I will say it now … the house itself is another matter. I never been able to talk myself into that one, but as I suggested the garden is a cinch."

"HOW?" both men yelled simultaneously.

"No need to shout gentlemen! It's just that by my watch it's Saturday morning, and you did want to do something about Harry today, didn't you?" Arabella said as if that explained everything with crystal clear clarity.

"Yes my dear, which is why we need to get back to the subject at hand." Albus said as patiently as he could but with a noticeable edge of annoyance to it.

"Fine be that way, Albus, no ticket for you."

"I'll take eight Arabella," Arthur finally spoke up, "I believe I'd like to make this a family outing."

"But Arthur! That's a lot of Sickles and we still have some school supplies yet to buy …" Molly started to protest.

"Well manage the cost Molly. Just bear with me. You'll want to go."

"All right, but then don't we need nine Arthur?" Molly asked puzzled as to why her husband was planning a family outing in the middle of a major crisis.

"No my dear, I already have one, but wait a minute … Arabella make that nine after all. Remus would you like to go with us?" Arthur said giving him the high sign to go along with whatever he said.

"Um … okay … sure … I'm in."

"Oh goody! I'll give you the family discount then!" Arabella clapped her hands and started counting off tickets. "Let's see you already have one, plus nine more is ten … and they are six for three sickles, so six sickles will get you twelve less two would be five sickles. Less ten percent for the family plan … and you already paid for one. There are twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle … so how about four Sickles for the rest?"

"Well worth it. Thank you Arabella."

"I'd like two as well, Arabella," Kingsley spoke up to the delight of the little squib who was busily tearing off squares of the colourful cardboard and making change. Handing one each to Tonks and Moody, he said "My treat, I have one already."

"Anyone else?" Arabella asked revelling in the attention.

Hestia and Emmeline looked at each other and shrugged. If was going to get Arabella to let the meeting move on it was worth the seventeen Knuts. As they too bought tickets, the rest of the order decided the same thing. Soon everyone in the Order had a square of the colourful cardboard, with the exception of Albus and Severus.

"Are you sure you don't want one too?" Arabella asked the last two men. "It's the last chance at this price for I will need to leave soon to set up the booth."

"A booth for what Arabella?" Dumbledore ventured to ask, gathering another glare from his Potions Master at having the nerve to resurrect the pointless conversation once again.

"For the Garden Fete of course, what else have we been talking about all this time? Haven't you been listening?" she said in exasperation.

"And what in Merlin's name is a Garden Fete?" Snape finally asked in frustration.

"Little Whinging's annual neighbourhood garden show of course. The one I have been selling tickets too. I'm treasurer you know," she said proudly. "Of course I don't have a chance of placing. Petunia always wins. Her garden is always the best by far, but at least I know now to whom to give the ribbon. I always knew it wasn't Petunia. I've never seen her lift a finger in the yard. However, Harry now - he does a lovely job. The roses are just …"

"Excuse me for interrupting Arabella, but did you say Petunia? As in Petunia Dursley?" Dumbledore asked, his interest finally piqued.

"Yes, remember I just live two lanes over? No? Well, maybe if you had bothered to visit more often you would have remembered."

"And Petunia …?"

"As I was saying, she is the defending champion."

"And so the tickets are for…?"

"The Garden Fete, of course - just as I have been saying all along. For the price of a ticket you get … excuse me for saying this Albus, but perhaps you should have Poppy give you a check-up while she's here."

"A check-up? For what?"

"Forgive me for insinuating, but you can't seem to follow a simple conversation anymore. I must have explained it at least a dozen times already and it's getting annoying, I'm a busy woman you know."

"Ah …"

"So out with it all ready! And for the price of a ticket you get what?" Snape interrupted.

"You get an invitation to enter any garden that is entered in the competition, of course - including Petunia's."

"I see. Of course," Albus said as the light dawned along with the rising sun. "And they were how much again?"

"A galleon a piece."

"I thought you said seventeen Knuts each," Dumbledore said frowning severely at the little squib.

"That was the early bird special. The price just went up gentlemen, along with the sun." Arabella said sweetly. "Too bad you were so slow to take me up on my offer. Maybe next time you'll just listen instead of asking so many twisty questions that don't lead anywhere."

At that, Kingsley and Arthur finally let loose with their pent-up laughter. After the stress of the all night meeting, it was good to have release. It was even better that it was Albus and Severus at the end of the joke this time.

"I still need two impartial judges for the panel, would anyone like to volunteer?"

Arabella jumped back as everyone in the room raised their hands.

"Oh my! I don't need that many - just two! How about you draw straws?" Arabella pulled enough straws out of a broom, with two extra long ones, for the group to draw from. As the order members started to pull straws, Molly held Arthur back until they were the last two to draw. Miraculously somehow the last two straws were also by far the longest.

"It looks like we have our judges!" Arabella clapped her hands in joy. "Oh this is going to be so much fun! I haven't had this many visitors the whole time I've been in Surrey. Maybe while you are there, a few of you might like a nice little kneazle?"

Her suggestion was met by many doubtful looks.

"No? Well think about it! They make great pets! Every life deserves nine cats! Well, I have to go now and start getting set up my booth. Don't forget it starts at noon, and you are all welcome to use my floo. Oh, and Arthur and Molly … be sure to be an hour early so I can go over the judging rules with you." Arabella waved goodbye as Elphias guided her into the fireplace and activated the floo to send her home. "See you sooooooooooonnnnn…!"

"Molly … not that I mind, but how did we get the long straws?" Arthur asked pulling his wife away from the crowd. "I was sure that it was Emmeline and Mundungus who had gotten them."

"Arthur, there was no way on earth that I was going to let someone else get that job instead of us. I am going into that garden, no matter what. You said the family clock said Harry was in mortal peril. As a judge, whatever plans Dumbledore comes up with in the next few hours, I know it will include you and me rescuing Harry. And both Remus and Tonks seem a little too … _possessive _… of OUR son."

"Oh my sweet, it was your mother killer-instinct kicking in again wasn't it? You cheated! Didn't you?" Arthur asked admiringly.

"Oh my love, yes I did." Molly admitted unashamedly and then kissing him soundly to end the conversation.

"Okay everyone, now that we have a way in, we need to make a plan of attack. Please, everyone take your seats. We haven't much time before noon," Albus called the group back to order. "Miss Tonks, if you don't mind going over everything again. This time from the very start, and don't leave anything out. There may be some clues there that will help."

"Certainly Headmaster, anything if you think it will help my little one …" Tonks stopped suddenly as wave nausea swept over her. Both Bill and Charlie moved to catch her as she crumpled to the floor, only Remus was closer and he swept her up in his arms.

"Quickly! Take her to the hospital wing. I need to tend to her head injury immediately!" Poppy ordered, "I don't know what I was thinking! I should have checked it much sooner, but I was so caught up in the meeting I didn't notice the symptoms."

With a quick, "Yes Ma'am", Remus took the quickest route and flooed to the infirmary and gently placed Tonks on the nearest bed.

"Will she be alright?" he asked worriedly as the mediwitch ran a few diagnostics spell.

"She has a concussion and a subdural hematoma. However, we caught it in time." Raising her patient carefully she tipped back her head and poured a ruby red potion down her throat causing her to rouse coughing.

"What … _(cough … cough _…_)_?""

"Relax Tonks, you will be fine. You just passed out from one too many taps on that thick head of yours. Here take one more swallow for me … there that will do it. Proper dosage for potions is critical. You know everyone always thinks 'more is better'. Tsk, tsk. Shame on them. You seldom need to need to drink the whole thing. That a girl, all taken care of now. Lay back down. You need to get some rest now."

"But little one! I have to go!"

"You are going nowhere young lady. You are confined to bed for the next twenty-four hours."

"But I have a ticket and everything!" Tonks wailed in protest holding up the clutched piece of cardboard.

"I'll just take that, thank you!" Poppy said briskly, confiscating the colourful square. "I might use it myself. No need for it to go to waste, and I always liked a good flower show. Named after one you know."

"But …"

"No 'buts'," Poppy admonished. "Head trauma is nothing to trifle with. Yes the potion has stopped the internal bleeding in your brain, but you have to give the swelling time to go down or you could do yourself permanent damage. Now sleep."

"Yes, Ma'am," Tonks replied frustrated. She punched her pillow and flopped her head back down, putting an arm over her eyes to block out the early morning sun dappling in through the tall windows. Everyone was going to rescue little one – everyone but her! Except that she was the only one that he knew – he'd be so frightened!

Taking Poppy aside Remus asked, "I thought you weren't supposed to sleep with a concussion, shouldn't we keep her up and talking?"

"That is only with muggles, the potion I gave her has taken her out of danger. The best thing for her now is rest. So perhaps you better be going."

"The order will be plotting and planning for the next few hours, and it will drive me crazy watching them methodically think everything out, when all I want to do is storm the house immediately." Remus said lingeringly, reluctant to leave Tonks. "If you don't mind Poppy, I'll just stay here and watch over her for a little while. You've had a long night. Why don't you get in a nap yourself?"

"Thank you Remus. You know you were always one of my favourites - always so considerate, always so sweet. Goodnight, or rather good morning," She smiled and started to retire to her own quarters which were just off the infirmary.

"Oh Remus … when you do go, do be careful. Whatever you might think of the Dursley's, they are still parents of a young child. Whatever happens to them, will affect him too. Please remember there are two little boys there that need help, not just one. Watch out for them both."

"I'll remember Poppy, and I will."

"And do me one more favour?"

"Of course, what is it?"

"Watch out for that one too," she said nodding at Tonks sleeping form.

"After what I saw tonight, I don't think the young lady needs any help. She seems quite capable."

"That's not what I meant."

"Oh?"

"I meant to make sure you don't break her heart."

Remus gulped. What could she mean?

"Oh don't look at me with those big soulful eyes. After all these years dealing with six and seventh years, I know love when I see it, and you, my lad, are head over heels in it. Just be careful. Tonks is one of my favourites too, and if you break her heart, I will hunt you down. Whether you're in season or not," she added with a chuckle.

"I'll remember, and I'll be careful Poppy. I promise."

Returning to Tonks bedside, Remus sat down and absentmindedly brushed the hair off from her cheek.

She opened her eyes and looked at him thoughtfully.

"What's going to happen now?"

"Dumbledore is going to figure out what's going on, and we are going to get him out of that house."

"But when I tried to take him off that chain … that collar choked him … and I had to leave him behind." The tears that had been threatening to fall for the past several hours started flowing freely. Remus once again swept her into his arms and held her close. "It was so horrible … his lips went so blue and I thought I had … I had … killed him. It was entirely my own fault! I knew the words were important. I was just so close!"

"Tonks … what do you mean by the words being important?" Remus asked thoughtfully.

"The words … how the rules were worded … it mattered. That was how I got him to talk to me in the first place … it was all in the words."

"Explain! How did you get him to talk? This could be vital!" he asked urgently.

"Well … when Dursley left little one chained up in the garden tonight, he told him that he _'better not __**hear**__ a single sound out of him',_ where the night before he just said that he better _'not __**make**__ a sound'_."

"How is that different?"

"Don't you see? I pointed out to little one that as long as Dursley _didn't hear_ him this time, he could make as much noise as he wanted. Because he hadn't ordered him not to make any sound at all, just not any sound that Dursley could hear. So I put a muffliato spell around us just to be sure."

"Very clever!"

"Thanks," Tonks said, blushing at the praise. "But I didn't change the rule – that creep Dursley did. I just took advantage of it."

"Still, very clever."

"That was also how I got into the garden, and how I got him to come out where I could see him, and to eat. It was just that the sky was starting to lighten and I knew Dursley's time limit was almost up, and I … I … OH MY GOD!"

Tonks stiffened and sat up straight. Her eyes had flown wide open, her face had gone pale, and her mouth was open but words were no longer coming out.

"What's wrong Tonks? Are you all right? Is it your head? Do you want me to get Poppy?"

"The chain! I tried the wrong end! The words! It would have worked if I had just tried the other end!"

"What are you talking about?

"Dursley said _'and don't even think about trying to get off that chain'_. What I did was pick the lock and took the chain off the collar - exactly what Dursley ordered little one not to do! If I had just undone the other end … the one attached to the stake in the middle of the yard … the one Dursley undid when he dragged him back inside … it wouldn't have been breaking the rule! Don't you see? He wouldn't have been off the chain, but he still would have been loose from the stake. I could have scooped him up in my arms, and run away with him right then! I … I … I could have saved him … but I left him there instead. I locked the chain back on his collar and I … just left him there. I let him down."

Her eyes filled with despair as she realized her mistake, and she let out a small sob as Remus gathered her back into his arms in a crushing embrace.

"Shush now. It's all right. Shush. You didn't let him down. You came for help, and he is going to get it. You did everything you could. You did more than most would have. We are going to get Harry out of there, and it is only because of you. Everyone else had give up all hope. I can't thank you enough."

Remus held her tight as she sobbed, rubbing small circles into her back until she calmed down. He just hoped his assurances weren't in vain and Snape was right when he said Tonks last minute spell had done its job. When she finally calmed, Remus could make out that she was now mumbling something about 'the mud being important too'. However before he could ask her about it, the combination of potions and lack of sleep finally defeated her fight to stay awake.

Easing her head onto a pillow, Remus sighed remembering the promise he had made to Poppy not to break Tonks heart. That was a promise that was all too easy for him to keep, for Poppy was wrong - dead wrong. Tonks was in no danger of him breaking her heart, as his heart already belonged to her forever. He gave it willingly. He only hoped that she wouldn't break his too badly, as was bound to happen. She was still so young, just a teenager, not really all that much older than his lost cub, and he was almost twice her age. What could she ever possibly see in him? He was a dirt-poor aging werewolf, with no money, and no prospects. Tonks could do much better. He would just have to keep his distance and love her from afar. He would not risk her being hurt. Not after all she had done to help his cub.

Giving up the hope of a family with Tonks, reminded him even more deeply of his desire for a family with Harry. Fingering his own little square of cardboard, which represented his last chance, he vowed that before the day was over he would have a family.

He would have his cub back and no one, and nothing, was going to stop him this time.

Anyone who got in his way … well if he couldn't kill them, he would at least make them wish that he had - the full moon wasn't that far off.

That was also a promise he intended to keep.


	37. Between a rock and a hard place

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and reposted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Language, and refers to extreme child abuse of a sexual nature. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

- - - **WARNING – STORY PLOT SPOILER AHEAD - - -**

Several people have told me this is getting very depressing, so it is perfectly okay to skip reading this chapter entirely as it is definitely not a happy time for Harry and VERY depressing. I am most regretful that I could not skip it altogether, however this is the next to the last really sad part and it needs to be here in the timeline. But for those of you that will distress over Harry is still in the wretched house and the Dursley are abusing him again, I will just give you a really quick summary so you can skip reading this part entirely: The Dursleys are being horrible again (except for Dudley who is being kind of sweet in a Dudley sort of way), Petunia is being nasty and Vernon is being violent.

**- - - END OF SPOILER - - - **

Timeline: Saturday morning just after dawn.

**Chapter 37 – Between a rock and a hard place  
**

Boy was stuck in the middle of one of those damned if he did, damned if he didn't situations – Ma'am was unhappy. Master didn't like Ma'am or Cousin to be unhappy - EVER. It was one of Master's rules that it was ALWAYS Boy's fault if they were. While nothing in Boy's life had ever been particularly 'fair', this was admittedly one of the least fair rules he had to live with. He had little to no control over Ma'am and Cousin's level of happiness. And this morning was no exception.

Ma'am had woken up cranky and nothing would make her happy. None of the things that went wrong this morning had been his fault, at least not that he could reason out, no matter how he twisted the logic of it around. And if he couldn't figure out what he had done wrong, he certainly couldn't try to make sure he never did it again, could he? However, that had never mattered before he thought in resignation. The Family took the time to explain to him what he had done wrong when they punished him. And when they did, Boy always regretted it because it would just remind them of even more things that they were unhappy with Boy about. It was always much better if he could figure it out on his own, and if he didn't … well, he supposed it really didn't matter because he would have to pay for it anyway. That was the rule.

According to Master, Boy's culpability had all started when he had pulled him back inside from the garden. As soon as the door closed behind him Master had raised his fist to hit him, but instead hitting of Boy, Master's fist had hit the wall beside the front door. It was as if something had intervened and changed the trajectory of the blow. He had missed by at least a meter. It was very strange, Master had never missed hitting Boy before, at least not since Master had made the rule about Boy not being allowed to run away or hide from punishment. Now that Boy just had to stand very still and take it, he was always an easy target.

Master had looked from the hole in the wall, to Boy, and back again. Then his face went red with rage.

"Damn it Boy! You did that! Trying to avoid what you deserve! You ungrateful piece of gutter trash!"

Boy just hung his head and stared at the holes in the toes of his trainers. He hadn't meant to do anything wrong! And this time he really wasn't sure what it could have been. Almost everything that had happened in the garden before Master came outside wasn't technically against any of the rules according to Miss Tonks. And the only rules he knew of, that he clearly _did_ break, were violations against Miss Tonks … not Master. And the collar had already punished him for those, or Miss Tonks had forgiven him.

He racked his brain over everything that had happened. He hadn't tried to stop Master when he started to kick Miss Tonks, as he had before with the owls. Instead, this time he had just simply gotten in the way of Master's steel toed boot. He hadn't broken any rules doing that, and he had already paid dearly for it with at least two cracked ribs. It was true that he had tried to grab hold of something to avoid being pulled away from Miss Tonks, but after Master succeeded in pulling him back inside he had stood very still so that Master could beat him for his audacity without straining himself too much. He hadn't run, he hadn't ducked, and he hadn't moved a muscle. He hadn't tried to avoid the punishment that he knew he deserved at all.

He would have to own up to being an ungrateful piece of gutter trash though. That was certainly true enough. He wasn't very grateful, and he was trash. He _was_ grateful for the few moments of feeling safe and wanted in Miss Tonks arms. He had never felt that before that he could remember. And even though it didn't last long, the memory would keep him warm for a very long time. And he _was_ grateful that his book, blanket, and his father's glasses had been returned to him. All a little more broken, singed, and dirty, but he had them back and for that he was very grateful. However, that was all for which he was grateful. Being ungrateful for living in a tiny cupboard, and for being starved and beaten and worse, well that wasn't anything new that he had done wrong. So he wasn't sure what Master was accusing him of this time, unless it was the old standby reason that he had been defiant enough not to stay dead when he should have.

Boy closed his eyes and sighed to himself in resignation. That must be it, he thought, he was still breathing Master's air without his consent. But since one of Master's rules was that he couldn't ask questions, he had never been able to ask for permission to do so. It was just another not-so-fair rule that governed his life.

"Get down!" Master barked.

Boy immediately dropped to the floor on his hands and knees at the command, trying not to wince too much as he put pressure on his broken hand, as he knew showing any sign of discomfort at his punishments annoyed Master to no end, and just made them last longer. As he waited for the beating to start, he tried his best to not tense up. Whippings always hurt more if you tensed your muscles. However, it was hard not to tense while anticipating when and where the first blow would hit.

Bent on giving Boy his well deserved punishment, Master took off his belt, folded it in half so it was a stiff loop, and proceeded to try and beat Boy with it. Nevertheless, try as he might, the belt fell short of Boy's back time after time. No matter how hard he swung the belt Boy wasn't touched. Winded, Master finally let the belt drop with a thud. The echoing clink of the metal buckle hitting the marble floor of the foyer was drowned out by Master's heavy panting.

Boy didn't understand it. Why hadn't Master hit him? But far be it for him to question Master's wisdom in the matter. If Master wanted to change his mind, Boy was okay with it - definitely okay. He hurt enough as it was, and really did not mind not being whipped again so soon after his last beating, which had been particularly long and brutal. Another whipping now would be sure to reopen all his wounds that had just started to scab over. As it was, the slightest movement still caused them to bleed. Boy let out a soft sigh of relief at his reprieve from punishment.

"Quit being insolent you little slut!" Master screamed at him in response to the slight sound.

"Hush Vernon! What did I tell you about not waking Marge?" Ma'am's annoyed hiss came from the open kitchen doorway.

"Nothing will wake her this morning Pet. I slipped an extra sleeping pill into her wine last night. I slipped one to that miserable dog of hers too. I have … plans this morning," Master hissed backed with a meaningful leer at Boy who trembled imperceptibly at the declaration.

"I don't care what plans you think you have Vernon. She will wake up eventually. Bring the freak in here. He needs to get his chores done before she gets up."

"But Pet, I haven't got to …" Vernon started to whine.

"No Vernon! Remember? Today is all about ME. Now quit playing with your toy and get him in here, he has work to do, and then get rid of that other …_ person _… in the front yard. She's got to go. She's trashing up the garden."

"Yes dearest …"

'… _don't know how the little blighter did that anyway … but I know it was him … damn freakishness … haven't squashed enough of it out of him yet … gotta think about that … nothing but a stubborn nuisance and a waste of space.'_ Vernon grumbled under his breath, as he went to unlock the padlocked chain from the collar around Boy's neck. But as he reached down with the little key, it bent in midair as if it had hit a steel wall.

"FINE! If you want to keep the chain on, you can keep it on, you little freak." Master sneered, finishing the bend in the key. Snapping the little piece of metal in two with his fingers, he tossed the pieces into the dust bin. "That chain is never coming off again as long as I am your master."

Boy hadn't moved the entire time, but a shiver ran through him at that announcement. He didn't want to stay on the chain forever! Unlike his collar, which had been around his neck for as long as he could remember, he was only on the chain when he was outside. He hardly noticed the collar anymore, unless it was reminding him to behave, but his chain was not something he could ignore as easily. He always hated how it made him feel when he was tethered to it. Once when he was on it, Master laughed and forced him eat some of Ripper's food out of a dog dish with just his mouth, and called him a dirty whelp.

Being on the chain was one of the few things that he truly despised, about being outside and working in the garden. Because it never failed to remind him that even a dog was more wanted and had more rights than he. When he was on the chain, he couldn't pretend away the reality of being a slave. However, it didn't look as if he was going to have a choice in the matter. He didn't know why the key bent. In fact, it was the last thing he would have wanted to have happen to the key. Nevertheless, now that it was broken, he was going to have to drag the chain with him wherever he went. It would make his inside chores that much more difficult to complete without making any noise. He was sure to get more punishments as a result.

Master picked up the end of the chain and marched down the hall into the kitchen trailing it after him. As the slack in the chain began to rapidly diminished, Boy broke out of his trance, and stumbled to his feet as he was pulled back into his grim reality.

"Get to work on breakfast freak!" Ma'am yelled at him the minute he stepped foot in the kitchen. "I promised my Diddydums French toast and bacon this morning. He has had a traumatic time of it lately, thanks to you."

Without a word, Boy set to work making the rich egg and cream meal. Ma'am had left thick slices of his home baked bread out to dry the night before, so Boy set the slices to soaking in the custard mixture. After toasting the outsides to a beautiful crisp golden brown colour in a hot skillet, he set them to finish baking in the oven and turned his attention to the bacon. It was just starting to sizzle and release its tantalizing aroma into the air, when Master came back in from the front yard.

"There. That's done. I disposed of the trash as you wished dearest. We might want to think about moving. This neighbourhood seems to be going downhill. I saw a new neighbour this morning and he looks disreputable - not our kind at all. What with all the vandalism around it's not a good influence on our Dudders," Master said picking up the end of Boy's chain and securing it in a loop around the arm of his chair. Then wiping his hands together, he sat down at the table and flipped the newspaper open.

"It's the freak I tell you, he's the one causing all the trouble, not the neighbours. If it weren't for him, our Duddy wouldn't be in trouble with the law and we wouldn't have an appointment with CPS on Monday," Ma'am spouted off from the opposite end of the table between sips of her morning tea. "By the way Vernon, did you get rid of that flying menace too? I don't want the judges to be attacked at the Fete. I still wonder whom that Figg woman got for judges. The neighbourhood committee said they wanted someone more 'impartial' this year. They seemed to think that Paula and Peter Polkiss were biased, just because I've won every year for the past six years that they've been judges. It's simply preposterous! I only won because I am the best."

"Of course you are my dear, and as long as the filthy little freak didn't do the half-arsed job he normally does, I am sure you will win again this year, no matter who the judges are. If you don't, I will exact satisfaction for you out of his hide myself with pleasure. And don't worry about the owl. It didn't give me too much trouble this morning. After shooting the first one, the second one seems to be keeping a respectable distance. However, I did scatter more poisoned bait around just to be sure."

"Vernon … I just thought of something. How did that other _person_ get into the yard to begin with?"

"I think our little slave was overstepping his bounds again. That's how. He was trying to make a _friend_," he said the word nastily as if it were some contaminated thing that smelled badly. "He forgot he was a slave. Forgot his place. I think it was the water. That was a big mistake Petunia. We were far too generous giving him an entire bottle of water. Give him a little something, and all of a sudden he thinks he's the Crown Prince of England, and can have anything he wants without permission."

Vernon suddenly yanked on the end of the chain, catching Boy off guard, so that he fell backwards to the floor with a crash.

"Did you think it was okay to have a _friend_ Boy? Did I ever tell you that you could have a _friend_? Do you think you _deserve_ a friend? Well? Answer me!"

"No Master." Boy answered softly, assuming a slave's position of respect in front of his master, with his forehead touching the floor. _'I am such a bad slave! Master had to remind me to bow. I should have done that the instant he came into the room. He is right. I am forgetting my place.'_

"Do you remember what you are?"

"Yes Master."

"So what are you Boy? Are you a dog that you are grovelling on my clean floor getting it filthy? Should I get you a dog dish again?"

"No Master, sor-sorry … Master." Boy scrambled to get back up to his feet, and then standing meekly with his head bowed, he waited for his next order. _'What else can I do wrong?' _Boy criticizing himself. _'That's twice now in one day I assumed what position my betters wanted me in for punishment and instruction. Master is right to be angry with me.'_

"Damn right you should be sorry," Master said scornfully, his eyes narrowing as he scowled at his repentant slave. "Since your freakishness is showing itself again this morning, maybe you need to be reminded of what you really are. You don't seem to remember. So tell me Boy. Say the words. Acknowledge what you are."

Boy wanted to remain quiet and not say the hated words. However, as the collar started to remind him he was not allowed to disobey a direct order, the memorized words of the abhorrent acknowledgement started tumbling out against his will. Soon he had spoken all the horrible 'truths' they had drilled relentlessly into him for as long as he could remember.

"… and are you anything else?" Master finally asked.

"No Master … I am a n-n-nothing," Boy whispered, effectively squashing down the little bit of fragile self-esteem that Miss Tonks had planted in his heart when she said that she loved him.

Thinking about Miss Tonks, he felt a pang of longing in his heart. He had made his first real friend, one that knew he was a freak and stayed anyway. He had been the happiest he could ever remember being. It almost felt like what he imagined being able to fly would feel like, being able to soar free among the clouds with no chain to tether him to the ground. It had felt so good, to have someone look at him and not be repulsed at the sight as Ma'am always was. He desperately wanted a friend, he had given up long ago wishing for a family that loved him, but one friend … one real friend … just one … one that sort of liked him, or at least didn't thoroughly hate him … that wasn't too terribly greedy … was it? Surely, it was not too much to wish for - even for a slave.

Only then Miss Tonks had found out that he wasn't only a freak, she found out what he really was, and he had lost his friend. The look of utter horror that he saw on her face, when she said the word 'slave', told him all he needed to know. It made him feel lower than dirt. The cloud of euphoria he had been riding on evaporated in that instance and he plummeted to earth. Then to make matters worse, it was his fault Master had hurt her. Even if she didn't want to be his friend anymore, he still wanted to be hers.

Nevertheless, as Master dragged him inside, he had said, 'Don't you know that slaves aren't allowed to have friends?' Boy hadn't known it. He had _suspected _it of course, but Master had never actually _said_ that it was a rule. But now that he had, Boy knew that he would never be allowed to have another. He almost wished that Miss Tonks had never tried to be his friend to begin with, because then he wouldn't know how much he was missing by not having one. Now that he knew, it felt like a big hole had been punched in his heart. He felt as bad as he had when he thought that the Hundred Acre Woods had burned.

"So what do you say Boy?"

"Th-thank you Master for reminding me of my place."

Master was right. He didn't deserve to be loved because he was a nothing, and would never be a something. He didn't deserve a friend if he couldn't take care of them and protect them. Master was right to remind him. He had started to forget.

"See Pet? I told you I could teach him. He's a slow learner, but he does get it eventually if you keep pounding it relentlessly into him. Just as Marge says about breaking animals, you just have to train them with a firm and unyielding hand. Now Boy, I hope you were paying close attention during your last lesson. If you did, and if you're not a complete moron, you should be able to read this list of chores I made up for you and I won't have to waste my time drilling them into your stupid head. You have until Marge wakes up to finish them or there will be hell to pay. And if you try to avoid any more punishments, it will be ten times worse. I can promise you that."

Master dropped a long handwritten list on the floor in front of the trembling boy.

Boy knew that he could not read the list. Even if he had his father's glasses on, and could see the words, he knew that he wouldn't know what they said. And as much as he had always wanted to learn to read, he would be happy to never learn how, if master's lessons were the only way he had to learn it.

"Vernon, be reasonable! You said yourself that the little freak had limited mental capacity. I don't care how brilliant your teaching methods are, there is no way you could have taught a moron how to read overnight. Besides, you broke his glasses. How do you expect him to see it to read it? It was one thing to give him those old glasses from the junk drawer, but I am certainly not going to squander any of my household money buying him a new pair. Are you?"

"Of course not! I'm not buying him anything. That would be a waste of money and I'm forced to waste enough on that waste of space as it is. However, I think you underestimate me, oh ye of little faith. I did teach him. And I'll prove it … kneel Boy."

Boy dropped to the cold tile floor, and knelt as ordered before Master, keeping his head bowed.

"Spell your new name Boy - NOW," Master demanded in a low threatening growl.

Boy tried to resist, it was such a hateful name and he felt ashamed when he even thought it, let alone if he had to spell it out loud. But as the collar started to tighten again at his disobedience, he slowly started to repeat the letters Master had carved into him, before he started to choke.

"… 'w'… 'h'…"

"Morning Mum! Morning Dad! So what's going on?" Dudley asked brightly as he came into the kitchen for breakfast, stepping over the chain as he went as if it wasn't there, and swooping up the list of chores off the floor as he passed by. He ended his travels by plopping heavily in a chair that protested with a groan under his weight. "Where's my French toast and bacon? I'm hungry!"

"Coming right up Diddydums," Ma'am crooned as she immediately started fawning over Cousin. "Enough showing off the freak and get back to work! You heard Dudley. My precious is hungry. Don't you know by now that you should have his breakfast on the table the moment as he comes in?" Ma'am scolded. "He has a delicate constitution and can't be kept waiting even a second."

"Yes Ma'am. Right away Ma'am." Relieved Boy got up and poured Cousin some cereal, to hold him until the rest was cooked, and then went back to the stove. Sometimes Cousin had impeccable timing, but this time it wasn't so great. While Boy had been 'reciting' for Master, the toast and bacon he had started earlier, had started to burn. Boy carefully scraped them down the garbage disposal, under Ma'am's watchful eye, so she could be sure that he didn't dare sneak any for himself, and started fresh. Master responded by declaring that there would again be no food for him, since he had wasted so much burning breakfast on purpose. Only this time the sentence failed to faze him.

'_That's okay I'm not hungry,' _he thought. Usually he had to pretend and try to convince himself of that statement when he thought it, but this morning it was true enough. He was still full from the chips and hamburger that Miss Tonks brought him in the garden. _'And I do have an apple in my pocket and another half of apple in my cupboard! Oh! That's one more thing for which I am VERY grateful. I have an apple and a half and I still have some water in my pitcher for later while The Family is at the Fete!_' Boy smiled to himself at his bountiful blessings, as for once his satisfied stomach didn't roil at the thought of not receiving food.

"What are you smiling at Boy?" Master glowered over his heaping plate of eggs and fried potatoes. Whatever it was making it happen he was going to make sure he took it away immediately.

"_Oh no! Master wants me to answer him! What can I say?'_

"Er... Ma'am will be happy when she receives her prize today," Boy covered quickly for his mistake. It wasn't exactly lying and the statement was true enough. Ma'am would be happy, and he was thinking about the Fete - sort of - just not really the two together.

"Right you are," Vernon begrudgingly nodded, yet dissatisfied he found nothing new over which to punish his slave. "Speaking of which we should run down the timetable again. At twelve o'clock sharp where will you be Petunia?"

"On the front porch where I will demurely receive my just reward for all my hard work."

"Excellent. And you Dudders?"

"I'll be waiting at the arbour to usher the guests. Welcome to our garden, please do come in." Dudley made an elaborate bow to his cereal bowl.

"You'll be wearing...?" his father prompted him.

"My new Smelting knickers and tails," Dudley slumped down in his chair to show his displeasure.

Boy tried not to snicker at the look on Cousin's face.

"And...?" his mother prompted.

"And my boater... but I'll get to carry my Smelting stick too! Don't I?"

"Of course Duddykins! You'll look so precious! The perfect little gentleman. So dashing," Petunia exclaimed proudly clasping her hands together in rapture.

"And what about you Boy? Where will you be?" Vernon turned so suddenly he almost caught another smile where it didn't belong.

"Er... I'll be locked in my cupboard, making no sound, and pretending I don't exist," Boy recited dutifully, outwardly downcast, but inwardly thinking about that lovely pitcher of water awaiting him.

"Oh so true," Master said nastily and stuffed his mouth with sausages.

Master's words didn't bother him today, but what did send tremors of terror through him was something that Ma'am said as he placed the overflowing plate of French toast in front of Cousin.

"Vernon. I just thought of something else. If the little freak let someone into the garden, then that means someone saw him. Doesn't that mean …?"

'_Oh no! If Miss Tonks was wrong about it being okay because she wasn't a neighbour, then that means I broke the rule about not being seen! That would mean that they will take me off to prison for murder!' _Boy's hand trembled as he sat a pitcher of fresh squeezed orange juice on the table in front of Cousin.

"Hey! Watch it freak!" Cousin yelled out.

The pitcher was shaking so hard, as Boy put it down, that it would have toppled over spilling its contents entirely, if Cousin hadn't grabbed a hold suddenly and righted it. As it was, it still sloshed juice all over the list of chores that Cousin had picked up and dropped on the table. Boy murmured profuse apologies to Cousin for his clumsiness as he wiped up the table top, carefully avoiding touching the list, as if by doing so he could deny all knowledge of its existence. Cousin gave Boy a hard look and a flash of understanding came to his eyes as the real meaning of the list, and the meaning of the scene he walked in on, started to sink in.

Dudley's eyes narrowed to little slits as he scowled hard at the back of the paper in front of his Dad's face. His father was playing another one of his sick 'games' with his little cousin again. He hated it when his Dad did that, and this time he was particularly ticked off about it. And he had started the day in such a good mood too!

His parents had decided last night, that the trouble he had gotten into with his friends was all a mistake that they could clear up easily. They declared that he and his gang was just a bunch of 'misunderstood high spirited creative intelligent children', and that he was not the 'hardened delinquent' the policemen accused him of being. That decided they invited all his friends to come over during the Garden Fete to play with him. This way he wouldn't get bored, as high spirited creative intelligent children were known to be, if not kept entertained. It was only when bored that they got into situations where they could be 'misunderstood'. With Boy doing the catering, Dudley was positive they were sure to have best spread of all the gardens entered. He had been looking forward to it all night! And now his Dad was going to ruin it for him.

He could see that this was a list of chores intended for Boy to do, and he didn't need to be a genius to figure out that his Dad expected Boy to read it, as he had never written Boy a list of chores before. That was probably what all the 'spelling' was about when he walked in earlier. When Boy isn't able to read the list and doesn't do what's on it, his Dad will probably beat him again. And if his Dad beats him, he won't be in any shape to bake those killer biscuits Dudley had promised his friends. It wasn't Boy's fault that he couldn't read. It was his Dad's fault. Dudley had tried to take Boy to school with him and his Dad wouldn't let him go. Dudley didn't think it was fair of his Dad to punished Boy for it now.

"Do you mean that freak prison with the 'soul sucking' demons?" Vernon snorted derisively. "Ha! I doubt it! As if something like that could exist. A bunch of codswallop in my opinion."

"But I'm sure it does! They said …"

"Don't you worry your pretty head over it my dear. After tomorrow, it won't be our worry anyway. But it _does_ exist, then you're probably right about that, and that's where they'll dump him. If they do, and if he does have any soul left, even though I highly doubt it, then they are welcome to suck it out of him. On the other hand, if it doesn't exist, well then … ahem … 'Dumbledore' can suck it out of him instead, or vice versa, if you know what I mean. I really don't care what they do to him, as long as I get my money as promised." Vernon declared as he went back to reading his paper.

'_Master might not send me to prison? Maybe Miss Tonks was right about the rule after all. And if she was right about that - than maybe she was also right about …' _

Boy's heart leapt into his throat as he turned back to the stove to begin browning another stack of French toast.

'… _NO! Stop thinking about it! It won't do any good. Miss Tonks is gone and she won't be coming back now that she knows I'm a slave. What I need to think about, is what I need to do now. And what I need to do now is to get through Master's list of chores. What I need to do is what Roo keeps telling me to do - think positive.'_

Each time he turned the bacon, he thought as positive thought that he could.

'_Maybe … if I just do the chores I would normally do, like the laundry and ironing, I might get most of the list right. It's worth a try anyway. Maybe … if Master is happy enough with me, he might give me another chance and not sell me to Dumbledore. Maybe … if he changes his mind, and I'll do whatever he wants me to do with his customers, I'll make the money to pay back my debt and not a burden to The Family any longer.' _

"What's this list for?" Dudley interrupted his thoughts, prodding the damp paper with a sticky finger. "Sweep out the chimney, wash the walls, strip and re-wax the hall floor, polish the marble foyer, clean the Axminster rugs, wash and re-hang all the drapes, restack the boxes in the basement … DAD! This isn't fair! This list is humongous! This is too much!"

Startled, Boy shot Cousin an amazed and grateful look. As they weren't his normal chores, he would have never guessed even one of the things on that list! Still, he knew he didn't have a prayer of finishing even one of items that Cousin had read off, especially with his broken hand. Nevertheless, at least now, he knew what Master wanted done.

"Don't whine Dudley, it's not becoming of a Dursley." His father looked at him sternly over the top edge of the newspaper. "Besides it's the freaks list of chores, not yours."

"But that's what I mean Dad!" Dudley whinged in his whingiest tone. "The freak was supposed to make a spread for the Garden Fete today and it's not on this list anywhere! With all this other stuff to do, he won't have time! Each one of these things will take hours and hours and hours! Mum promised me cakes today since I have to dress up in a suit! It's just not fair! My friends are all coming over and I promised them chocolate chip biscuits!"

Dudley pounded his pudgy fists on the table as he pouted, catching the edge of his plate and sending its contents flipping into the air to land with a sticky 'thwack', upside-down on his mother's head.

"ARRRGHH! You made him do that you freak! I saw you looking at him! You just don't want my Garden Fete to be a success! You just want to be locked up, where you can lay about all day and do nothing to help!"

Ma'am screamed at Boy with syrup dripping off her long sharp nose. Wiping at the gooey mess caused the majority of it to drop onto the floor, splattering and ruining the new expensive shoes that she had bought just for today's party.

"Just for that you can forget that list. You will stay in this kitchen and cook until I say differently! You will not eat a bite yourself, and you will drink no more water today. You will make cakes, and you will make pies, and you will make tarts, and you will make sandwiches, and canapé's and hors d'oeuvres, and you will make …"

"BISCUITS! Don't forget the biscuits! Lots of them! Chocolate Chip!" Cousin piped up grinning from ear to ear.

"Yes, and biscuits. Lots and lots of biscuits," Ma'am said coldly. She snatched Master's list of chores out of Cousin's hands and ripping it to small bits, which floated to the floor to land like powdered sugar on top of the ruined toast. "And they had better be my finest biscuits! I have a reputation to uphold. And clean up that mess," She finished as she stomped out of the room and upstairs to wash her hair and change her clothes.

After refilling Cousin's plate, Boy shyly sent him one more grateful glance before he started pulling out baking sheets and pans. He would make ALL of Cousin's favourites! It would still be hard to cook with his broken hand and cracked ribs, but at least it wouldn't be as difficult as it would have been to do the strenuous chores that Master had lined up for him instead.

He didn't know why, but Cousin actually seemed to be helping him this morning. He was even nice and complimented him on how the Garden looked. Cousin had never said anything like that to him before. Cousin even stayed on hand to taste each dish to make sure it was perfect, since Boy wasn't allowed. Maybe Cousin just wanted to be sure the food was done right, or maybe it was that he was bored since his friends hadn't come to play yet. But whatever the reason, Cousin kept him company all morning, busily tasting and then toting the dishes out to the buffet table as Boy finished each pastry or platter.

Boy had kept the double ovens busy for several hours while all sorts of tempting sweets were created, filling the air with their mouth watering aromas. The baked goods were followed quickly by trays of luscious appetizers, mounds of enticing sandwiches, and massive bowls of iced punch. If the stomachs of the judges could sway the voting, then Ma'am should be a shoe in for the most beautiful garden again, based on the sumptuous spread alone even if all the flower beds were to be bare and brown.

By the time Cousin carried the last dish out the back door to the lavish table, and Boy was drained. After drying and putting away the last pan, he made sure the kitchen was again spotless and sterile before leaning tiredly against the counter. He felt hot and sticky after cooking all morning, and the kitchen was as hot as the inside of one of the ovens. He would have loved to crack open the window to feel a breeze but he was not permitted to have the windows open in any room he was in.

Master had installed special glass in all the windows so that the neighbours could not see in and inadvertently spot him, and Ma'am always kept the drapes and curtains tightly closed, 'just in case' the special glass didn't work she said. Since the special glass and heavy drapes were for Boy's 'protection', Master had added the exorbitant cost for this renovation and redecorating to his debt as well, another thing for which Boy was not as grateful as he should be.

Fanning himself with the damp dishrag, Boy tried to swallow but his throat was parched and dry. He thought of the pitcher in his cupboard with regret. It still had a little water in it, but Ma'am had forbidden him from drinking any more water today, and even if Ma'am wouldn't know if he took a small sip, the collar would. He tried to lessen the craving by sucking on the damp rag, but in the end, the pain from his throbbing hand was the only thing that took his mind off his thirst.

Contemplating his hand, he thought again about Miss Tonks. She had told him she had what she called a 'potion' in her bag that would fix his hand. Rabbit called medicines 'potions' too. Undoing the length of rope that held up his oversized jeans, Boy pulled the little bag out of the waistband and cautiously felt inside it. There seemed to be no end to the bag and he could feel bottles of all sorts and sizes as well as a bunch of other things that he couldn't even begin to guess at what they were. Some were soft and squishy, and some were hard with edges. And one warm fuzzy object might have even licked his hand as he pulled it back out of the bag with a start.

Before he could explore the bag any further, Boy heard grunts and groans from upstairs. Miss was waking up and he was trapped in the open kitchen exposed with nowhere to hide! The end of his chain was locked around the arm of Master's chair and that certainly wouldn't fit through his cupboard door. Stuffing the little cloth bag back into the waistband of his jeans to conceal it, Boy had no choice but to wait in trepidation. His only hope was if Master or Ma'am came back in time. It was with a sigh of relief that he heard Ma'am's rapid footsteps in the hallway on her way to the kitchen to check up on his work. Ma'am barged into the room looking somewhat like one of Cousin's space alien comic book characters with her hair all wound up on large florescent plastic cylinders held in place by spiky metal clips.

"It's about time you were done you lazy good for nothing! Marge is getting up." Without even looking at him, Ma'am unlocked the end of the chain and pulled it out the door and down the hall, securing the end to the eyebolt on the back of the cupboard door, where the chain usually hung when not in use. Then she stood there with her hands on her hips and glared back at Boy who was just standing in the kitchen doorway not moving. Ma'am had not told him he could leave the kitchen yet, and she had ordered him to stay in there until she said he could leave. He was not going to be tricked that easily into doing something wrong again!

"Well? What are you waiting for you little freak? An engraved invitation? Get in the cupboard!" she ordered, taking a couple of steps backwards as she recoiled from the stale stench wafting out of the closed in space.

Thankful for an order to follow, Boy gathered up the length of chain as he scooted quickly back inside his little cupboard. Boy was just glad that he had concealed Miss Tonk's little bag before Ma'am saw it. He was sure that if Ma'am had caught him with it, that she would have taken it away. But it wasn't as if he stole it, he reasoned, it was an accident he ended up with it, and now he was just safeguarding it. He knew it wasn't his to keep, so he wasn't breaking the 'slaves can't own anything' rule. If he ever saw Miss Tonks again, he intended to return it to her promptly. In fact, he should make a point of trying to do that very thing.

At the sound of more groaning, Boy moved to press against the back wall of the cupboard, and as far away from the door as he could get, making the spiders he shared the space with scatter to get out of his way. The sounds he had heard from above were the sounds of Miss waking up. He was glad Ma'am had locked him back up in time. He knew that it was much better to be in his cupboard, than to be caught 'outside' when Miss was in the house and awake. One time he hadn't made it back in time and had to spend several hours hiding, curled up underneath Master's overstuffed chair with Master kicking him continually with the heel of his boot, and a sharp metal spring poking down into his side. It had been most uncomfortable, and he had to hold his breath for long periods of time so he wouldn't be heard breathing. And while his cupboard was small, it was much larger than the space beneath Master's chair.

"Vernon! Help me!" He could hear Miss yelling in distress from the staircase above him, Ripper growling and barking in her arms as he struggled to get loose from her iron grip.

"WHAT _IS IT_ MARGE?" Master yelled back in exasperation. "IF YOU NEED SOMETHING COME DOWN HERE!"

"But I can't Vernon!" Miss wailed as Ripper jumped out of her arms and ran up and down the stairs barking like a thing possessed. "Every time I try to go down the stairs I end up back at the top! What's going on? Is your house haunted? Do you have ghosts?"

"That's ridiculous! There is no such thing as ghosts Marge! I'll just bring you down myself." Master said as Ripper ran around and around in circles, nipping at his feet, before stopping to growl and scratch at the stairs again.

"Be careful Vernon!" Miss cried out as her brother started toward the stairs.

"Nonsense woman. There is nothing to be careful about. You are hallucinating. You must have overdosed on sleeping pills. These are perfectly normal stairs, in a perfectly normal house. They are the same normal ones you went up last night." Master huffed as he started towards the steps just to be propelled violently backwards as he came within a meter of the bottom one, landing on his rear near the front door with a loud thud.

"PETUNIA!" he howled.

"What is it Vernon? I'm busy!" Ma'am poked her curlered head out of the kitchen door as she waived her newly repainted wet nails in the air to dry them.

"Petunia! Get out here now! ** IT** is acting freaky again!" Master and Ma'am always referred to him as 'It' if they had to discuss him while Miss was in the house. Boy supposed this was to guard the secret that he existed and thus protect him from being discovered. He also supposed that being called It should make him feel grateful that The Family cared enough about him to do so, but somehow they way they spit out the word he didn't think that was really the reason.

"Well don't blame me! It's not my fault if **IT**'s acting up. You deal with IT. You're the one that brought IT in the house to begin with. I was for just leaving IT in the rubbish bin at the curb. But no, you said that all the neighbours were watching and insisted we had to. So it's your fault if it's acting up now, take care of IT yourself. I wash my hands of the whole matter."

"Marge! Go back to your bedroom! I need to take care of something!"

"But I'm hungry Vernon!"

"I'll send Dudders up with a tray," Master growled in a tone that didn't invite discussion.

"Send something up for Rippy-poo too."

"Very well Marge. Just get back in your room! AND. SHUT. THE. DOOR!" Master yelled.

"Well I never! This is no way to treat your sister! See if I come to help out next time Petunia calls," Miss said in a huff slamming the guest room door behind her.

Almost immediately, Master ripped open the door to the little cupboard causing Boy to try and make himself as small as possible. Master's huge frame blocked the entire doorway but the light from the hall lit up his lived face.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY SISTER?" Master spat out.

Boy flattened himself harder against the wall. Even though he had never seen Master ask a question so angrily, he didn't answer. Not only did he not have an answer, he didn't think Master really wanted him to, as Master already seemed to think he knew.

"YOU'VE CONTAMINATED HER WITH YOUR FREAKISHNESS! HAVEN'T YOU?"

Boy still said nothing. He knew he hadn't done anything to Miss, but it wouldn't help to deny it. Master would only accuse him of lying and punish him for that. On the other hand, if he said that he had done something, well then he really would be lying and that would be breaking another one of Master's rules. But not answering a direct question at all was still breaking a rule. He couldn't win no matter what he did or didn't do. But it didn't matter anyway, if anything went wrong, it was always his fault. That was the ultimate hard and fast rule. And from all the yelling, things must have gone very, very, wrong.

"Get out here and get into position for punishment! NOW!" Master yelled at him.

Unlocking the end of the chain from the eyebolt, Master pulled him out without even giving him a chance to respond and come out on his own. As soon as he could, Boy got on his hands and knees as ordered and waited. Ever since Master had forced Boy back into the house after his night in the Garden, both he and Ma'am had been keeping their distance, so it caught him by surprise when he felt the end of the chain tear into his back. Boy bit his lip to stifle his cries of pain while the rough links ripped his ragged clothes to ribbons as Master failed on him.

"_THIS_ is for avoiding punishment earlier … _THWACK … THIS_ is for letting someone onto my property without my permission … _THWACK … THIS_ is for trying to make a friend … _THWACK … THIS_ is for contaminating my sister … _THWACK … _and _THIS _is for spoiling my breakfast … _THWACK … _and _THIS_ is for ruining my wife's new hairdo that cost me one hundred pound … _THWACK_ … and don't you think I won't add the cost of that and her ruined outfit onto your debt … _THWACK_ … Master continued to enumerate the list of sins Boy had committed that morning with each strike. His angry voice keeping Boy's consciousness linked to the here-and-now, unable to escape into the safety of his mind. Finally satisfied with the results, Master relocked the end of the bloodied chain back to the eyebolt and laughed.

"I don't know how you did it earlier, but you thought you could avoid what you deserved didn't you Boy?"

"No … no Master, I-I didn't," Boy gasped out.

"The bloody hell you didn't - you can't fool me. Well I've been thinking, you may have stopped me from hitting you with my fist, and my belt, but I could still drag you around by the chain. It stood to reason I could reach you with it too. I don't know how you are stopping anyone from getting within a meter of you but _you will cease resisting punishment immediately!"_

Boy nodded even though he didn't know how to stop it, as he didn't know how he'd done it to begin with.

"You better. As you can see, I can make it ten times worse for you if you don't. Remember Boy, you can't outsmart me. I am your Master and you are too stupid to think on your own. No matter what you do, you will never get away from me, and if you try I will make you wish you were dead. It will be easier on you if you cooperate. Why, I'll even make sure you enjoy it. Now get back in the cupboard and think about that for a while," Master laughed cruelly as he watched his little slave drag himself back into the dark hole under the stairs, dutifully mopping up his blood the best he could and gathering up the rest of the long length of chain as he went.

Once Boy was back inside, Master glowered at him from the little doorway. "Did you learn your lesson this time?" he demanded.

"Yes, Master … very well." Boy replied subdued.

"It's about time. I was beginning to think you were too stupid to get it," Master sneered, slamming the little door before bending down and hissing though it. "Remember Boy - I am your Master and you_** will**_ obey me. You will to do _everything _any of your betters tell you to. And _everyone_, and _everything_ for that matter, is better than you are. There is _nothing_ lower than a slave. So if Ripper wants a hole dug for a bone, you will dig it for him. If Marge wants to come downstairs, you will NOT prevent her. Your betters every wish is your command. You are nothing."

Boy wiped at his eye with the sleeve of his tattered shirt. The chain had hurt, but not nearly as much as it hurt to be a nothing.

"You've been such a bad slave that come tomorrow I just may sell you to a new master. One who is not as kind and generous or as forgiving as I am. I had almost changed my mind on the matter, but perhaps I will sell you to 'Dumbledore' after all. If I do, I will make it a point of making sure that he knows just how bad you really are so he can punish you appropriately. I will give you until the end of the Fete to change that freakish attitude of yours and _make me happy_ once and for all … OR ELSE."

After Master had locked him in his cupboard and left, Boy did think about all he had learned, just as Master had ordered him too. He knew that he had to do something, or he would never be able to make Master happy, and then Master would sell him to Dumbledore. He had to do everything he could do to prevent that from happening!

Boy felt in Miss Tonks' little cloth bag and found the medicine bottles he had touched earlier. Ma'am had said he couldn't drink any water today, but she didn't say anything about not drinking medicines. In his desperation, Boy took them all. He knew he probably shouldn't have taken so much or so many for that matter, but his broken hand was making it difficult to do almost everything, and he really didn't know which bottle contained the potion that Miss Tonks had said would fix his hand. After all the cookery he had done that morning, his hand was even worse than before. He had used his forearm to hold things as much as he could, but it was clumsy and took more time. In addition, he hadn't been able to bend his fingers for two days now, and his wrist had started to grow stiff as well.

Laying lay down on his side on the rough wood plank floor Boy pulled his knees up to his chest. He had wanted to try the creams and salves too, but right now, his stomach was feeling slightly ill at all the medications he had drunk, and all of his limbs felt like they were full of splinters trying to push their way out. The pains in his hand and ribs were the most intense, but everywhere else hurt too. As the pain grew unbearable, he mercifully started to pass out. Even Dudley thumping loudly up the stairs above his head, as he carried a heavy tray to Miss, barely managed to penetrate his subconscious.

As Boy tried to find a comfortable position, he thought more about what Master said. Master would probably rewrite that list Ma'am tore up earlier. If he couldn't even do one chore, Master would think he wasn't trying to be a good slave, and would do the OR ELSE before he sold him to Dumbledore. Boy shuddered at what he knew that meant. With the Garden Fete over, there would be no reason for Master to stake him outside, and Ma'am would not intervene again. So Master would have all night to teach him another 'lesson'. Taking the medications was all he could do, if they worked, and it just nothing else went wrong, he might have a slim chance of surviving through another night. Then at least he'd have the opportunity to try to think of another way to make Master happy.

"Vernon! You've let the freak leave the hall a mess again. And now I suppose you expect ME to clean up after him …" Ma'am's complaining voice was the last thing Boy heard as he drifted off in a heavily drugged induced sleep.

'_Rabbit? Where are you? I think I need help … I think maybe I shouldn't have taken so much…' _

'… _Roo is that you?'_


	38. Bouncing and Pouncing

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of extreme child abuse or a sexual nature. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Saturday, the wee morning hours, August 3rd, 1991

**Chapter 38 – Bouncing and Pouncing**

"Christopher Robin?"

"Yes Roo?"

"What are we doing?"

"Watching the clouds Roo."

"Oh."

The two friends lay companionably on their backs, head-to-head, in the Merry Meadow. They were peacefully watching the fluffy white clouds in the shapes of kittens, puppies, and the occasional bunny, in the sky high above them. The clouds were lazily drifting by like flotsam and jetsam bobbing on unseen currents.

"Christopher Robin?"

"Yes Roo?"

"Are they going to do something?"

"Not that I know of Roo."

"Oh."

All around the edge of the meadow, tall trees lifted their branches to hold up the sky like ribs of an upturned umbrella. Their leaves crafting a deep emerald green border, to edge the canvas of bright cerulean blue.

"Christopher Robin?"

"Yes Roo?"

"Then why are we watching them?"

"Er … because they're there?"

"Oh."

Butterflies and flutterbees flitted to and fro, putting on an aerial acrobat show. Painting colourful loop-de-loops, spins, and dives in the crystal clear air.

"Christopher Robin?"

"Yes Roo?"

"When you aren't here … what do the people look like in the other place?"

"Like a walrus, a horse, and a pig Roo."

"Oh."

A patchwork quilt of bright red and orange poppies dotted the meadow, lifting their frilly faces to greet the rising sun. Translucent petals dancing in its warmth, like glowing embers. The colouring a perfect camouflage for the ladybugs, which when disturbed, soared skyward to join the airborne exhibition.

"Christopher Robin?"

"Yes Roo?"

"When you aren't here … where do you live?"

"Behind the green door Roo."

"Oh."

The chirping crickets leant their alto counterpoint to the steady bass clicking of the rhythmic beetles, supplying the duo with a soft serenade in the warm summer morning. The rhapsody, intermittently hushing as a shadow passes by, only to start up again with a bit of a calypso beat.

"Christopher Robin?"

"Yes Roo?"

"When you aren't here … where do you sleep?"

"In the cupboard under the stairs Roo."

"Oh."

A small bubbling brook gurgled and gushed as it wound its way languidly through the meadow from hither to yon, passing all sorts of strange and amazing creatures on its long journey to the sea.

"Christopher Robin?"

"Yes Roo?"

"What are we doing?"

"Still watching the clouds Roo."

"Oh."

Water skippers drew concentric circles behind them as they hopped and dipped, teasing the brook trout down below. Their water ballet disrupted only by the little eddies that unexpectedly rippled the surface.

"Christopher Robin?"

"Yes Roo?"

"How long are we going to watch the clouds?"

"Until I'm done Roo."

"Oh."

In the muddy pools of the brook, croaking bullfrogs were keeping a watchful eye on their school of pollywogs napping securely in the murky depths, protecting them from marauding woozles and wizzles - or any other prowler that may happen by.

"Christopher Robin?"

"Yes Roo?"

"Done with what?"

"Growing new bones Roo."

"Oh."

The buzzing bees buzzed busily as they harvested sweet clover nectar, carrying the saccharine syrup back to their hunny filled hives. While nearby, sentry bees flew lookout for the hungry Pooh bear, and his close and personal friends.

"Christopher Robin?"

"Yes Roo?"

"Why are you growing new bones?"

"Mine were broken Roo."

"Oh."

Dragonflies zoomed overhead like guided missiles, scattering the aerial acrobats in their path. Then stopping abruptly in midair, they surveyed the targets on the ground below, only to change direction and instantly zip away in a zigzagy course.

"Christopher Robin?"

"Yes Roo?"

"How did yours get broken?"

"I was being punished Roo."

"Oh."

A gentle breeze stirred the grass, spurred on by the occasional gust of air from a surreptitious source, sending the dandelions roaring as it scattered their seeds on its fickle thermals.

"Christopher Robin?"

"Yes Roo?"

"Why were you being punished?"

"Because I'm bad Roo."

"Oh."

Meadow Larks and Bluebirds gossiped back and forth in the dialect of twitters and tweets, as they sat on their eggs in their lofty nests, watching with interest from their front row seats, as if it were their own private play unfolding in the meadow below.

"Christopher Robin?"

"Yes Roo?"

"I don't think you're bad at all. I like you."

"I like you too Roo."

"Oh."

Marching two abreast in drill formation, the ants executed a rapid about face, while the red fox shooed her tumbling kits inside her cosy den.

"Roo?"

"Yes Christopher Robin?"

"I-I love you Roo."

"I love you too Christopher Robin."

"Oh."

Amid the fluffy brown and white cattails lining the banks of the little brook, a sole orange and black stalk waved proudly above the undulating meadow grasses. While the salamanders scurried for cover, the turtles steadfastly remained basking in the sun on warm rocks, confident that they looked as much a part of the rock as the rocks themselves.

… _(creep) …_

… _(sneak) …_

… _(peek) …_

_**POUNCE!**_

"_**HALLO-O-O-O-O!" **_

Roo burst into squeals of giggles as Tigger burst out of the grass and tickled her unmercifully.

"Stop! Stop! _… giggle … giggle …_ I give up! I give up!" the little kangaroo laughed gaily, rolling around in the sweet smelling grass trying to avoid the tickling paws.

"Hallo-o-o-o Roo! Hallo-o-o-o Christopher Robin!" Tigger sang out as he started bouncing in circles as fast as he could around the merry meadow.

"Hallo Tigger!" they sung back.

"What are you doing?" Tigger finally asked as he bounced to a stop and balanced on his springy tail.

"We're watching the clouds," Christopher Robin answered back, still lying on his back and staring up, up, up into the blue, blue sky.

"Can I help?"

"Sure! The more the merrier! Join us."

Tigger lay down on his back, head-to-head with the other two.

The fluffy little white clouds just hung in the crisp clean air.

"Well this is fun."

Tigger squirmed and fidgeted. He changed position and put his toes where his head was and his head where his toes were. Then back again. He tried closing one eye, and then the other. He tried closing both eyes and then opening them both up really fast and wide.

Nope. Nothing changed.

"They aren't doing anything," Tigger said petulantly.

"We know," Roo replied.

"Then why are we watching them?"

"Because they're there."

"Oh."

"How long are we going to watch them?"

"Until Christopher Robin is done," Roo answered.

"Christopher Robin?"

"Yes Tigger?"

"Can you be done yet?"

"I think so," Christopher Robin laughed sitting up and grinning at his two friends. "At least I think I am, everything still feels a little strange … but a lot better. So maybe that's why it feels so strange, because I'm not used to it feeling better."

"What were you doing?" Tigger asked cocking his head and peering at his friend curiously. Christopher Robin didn't look any different to him. Not strange at all. He looked just like a Christopher Robin should look.

"I was growing new bones, because mine were broken. But I don't think they are anymore. See!" Christopher Robin grinned happily and held out his hand and wiggled all his fingers. "My hand was the worst, but I think my ribs are okay now too. It just feels very strange not to have any broken bones. Even my old breaks feel stronger than they did, and don't hurt anymore."

"That's very, very good!"

"Why is that Tigger?"

"Because …"

_**POUNCE!**_

Christopher Robin burst into a giggle fit as Tigger pounced on him and began to tickle with abandon.

"… because Tiggers like to pounce and tickle! It is almost our favourite things, right after bouncing that is!"

"Stop … _giggle _… stop! No fair! _… giggle giggle _… two against one!" Christopher Robin laughed as Roo joined in the fun. "And _everything … giggle … _is your most favourite thing _… giggle …_ right after bouncing!"

"Not so," Tigger said offended, stopping his attack. "Tigger has much better favourite things. Even more favourite than bouncing."

"I'm sorry Tigger! I didn't mean to offend. What are your favourite things?"

"YOU AND ROO!" Tigger said gleefully, pouncing once more on the duo and tickling them both until his tickler was sore.

The trio, still laughing and panting hard from all the play, collapsed in a heap on top of each other in the middle of the meadow.

"That was fun! But …" Christopher Robin's muffled voice came from the bottom of the pile.

"But what Christopher Robin?"

"But … did you mean it?"

"Mean what?" Tigger asked.

"Did you mean it when you said I was one of your favourite things?"

"Of course you are! Why?"

"It's just that in my whole life only one other person, besides Kanga that is, has ever told me that I was one of their favourite things, and then you did too. And only one other person, besides Kanga, has ever told me before that they loved me, and then Roo did too. So now, they both happened three times! But I wasn't sure if I could believe her … I wasn't sure if I could trust her … but I _do _believe Kanga, and I _do _believe the both of you … and they say that good things always come in threes … so maybe I should believe her too."

"Her?" Roo asked cuddling up to his side as she tried to hide her mile-wide jealous streak. "Who-who else told you that Christopher Robin? Hm? Who-who else told you that they loved you? Hm? Is she as cute as me?"

"She's my new friend … at least she said she wanted to be my friend. We had dinner in the garden last night … but then …" Christopher Robin stopped. Thinking back on it now, he wasn't sure at all that Miss Tonks would still want to be a friend. She had said all those nice things before she found out he was just a worthless slave. He hadn't wanted to tell her, but she had just kept asking questions that he had to answer, until the whole horrible truth came out. Right after that, she had gotten hurt. Master had hurt her because of him. He had failed to protect her. Now that he thought about it more clearly, if Master hadn't already killed her, he was sure that she wouldn't want to be his friend, let alone come back again. Now that she knew the truth, he would be alone again.

"You had dinner with her too?" Roo pouted.

"Yes! And it was really good too! She brought chips with ketchup, and a hamburger of my very own, and a chocolate shake." Christopher Robin said, shaking off his sadness at losing his only friend in the dark abyss so soon, and instead happily focusing on how his stomach was still feeling pleasantly full from the meal. Holding up a little cloth bag he added, "She's the one I got this bag from that had the bone growing medicine in it."

"You didn't take any of it did you?" Tigger asked startled.

"Well … just a little of it …" Christopher Robin admitted quietly, while inside he was panicking big time.

'_Oh no! Did I do something wrong? Shouldn't I have taken it? I thought maybe it was another of Piglet's 'depends'. Master hadn't actually ever said that I couldn't have medicine, just that Master wasn't going to waste any of his, on me because I wasn't worth it. But this wasn't Master's medicine … it was Miss Tonks', and Miss Tonks told me it was for me. So it wasn't stealing … not really,' _he thought defensively.

"Are you sure it was bone growing medicine?" Tigger asked doubtfully shaking his head at his naïve friend.

"Well … pretty sure …" Christopher Robin said digging a toe into the dirt and drawing little circles.

"Did you read the label carefully?" Tigger lectured, knowing full well Christopher Robin hadn't, since he couldn't read.

"Er ... noooooo ..."

"You know you shouldn't eat or drink anything unless you know for sure what it is! And never, never, _never_ take candy from strangers. Tigger had a guest lecturer in his Defence against the Dark Arts class last year. He told us that. '_Constant Vigilance!_ _Always know where your food and drink come from._' Tigger thought that was Very Good Advice. So Tigger is starting to make his own candies. Tigger might even open up a shop someday to sell them! I'll call them Tigger's Tasty Tidbits!" Tigger smacked his lips at the sweet thought.

"I admit it Tigger … I wasn't sure at all …" Christopher Robin confessed reluctantly, embarrassed that he couldn't read.

"Then why did you do it?" Roo asked, concerned about her friend.

"She said she had something in her bag that would fix my broken hand, and I knew I couldn't do any more chores until it was better because it was really hurting a lot. And-and I have to do my chores. So I-I looked in the bag. I found several bottles that looked like the medicines Rabbit makes. Only I wasn't sure which one was the one that would fix my hand, so I tried several of them. One of them made steam come out of my ears, which was really funny, another one smelled really bad, and one smelled really good. That one was purple and tasted like fruit. But none of them fixed my hand. Then I found a really large bottle that had a little picture of a skull and two bones on it, so I figured that must be the right one, and I drank it all. I was worried at first, because when I took the cap off a lot of steam came out. But she was right about everything else, so I just closed my eyes really tight and swallowed it fast. It burned my mouth going down and then it felt like I was just full of large splinters, and it hurt … a lot."

While Roo's eyes got big and round with worry as she listened, but Tigger just shook his head at Christopher Robin's foolhardiness.

"Anyway, I came here to see if Rabbit knew what to do - since he is so good with things like that. But I couldn't find him, or Kanga, or Gopher anywhere. I looked all over the woods, and ended up here in the Merry Meadow hoping Rabbit's friends and relations would know where they had gone, but they hadn't seen any of them either. But Poppy, the red ladybug, was here and she looked at the bottles and told me it was okay. She said that if I lay really flat and still for as long as I could, that I would be alright. So Roo helped me watch the clouds while I did it. And now … and now it doesn't hurt anymore," he finished in an uncharacteristic rush of words and shrugged helplessly.

"Well Tigger thinks that you just got very lucky this time. Tigger doesn't think you should swallow _anything_ else in that bag unless you know what it is first. Okay? Tigger loves you, and doesn't want anything bad to happen to you."

"Neither does Roo! I love you too!" Roo cried tearfully throwing her arms around his neck in a big hug. She shuddered to think about what could have happened to her friend. Even she knew better than to swallow something that had a skull and crossbones on its label!

"I'm sorry. I won't. I promise." Christopher Robin said ashamedly. "Poppy yelled at me too. She said the same thing. She also said that I probably shouldn't have drunk the entire bottle anyway, that it should have just been a swallow. She told me that more isn't always better, and you seldom need to drink the whole thing. You're both right - I was wrong. I just didn't think. I'll be more careful with anything else I find in the bag. Are we … are we still … friends?"

"Always! You can't ever have enough friends! Just promise me you'll never take candy from strangers! That is Very Important too!"

"I promise Tigger. I'll never take candy from strangers."

"Good! Because if you do … I'll have to do this!"

_**POUNCE! **_

Christopher Robin burst into another giggle fit as Tigger pounced once more, and renewed tickling him from head to toe. Roo joined in by bouncing in circles around them on her kangaroo tail, clapping and cheering Tigger on. The hunny bees, disturbed from their labours by the ruckus, and suspecting that Pooh might also be lurking nearby, sent a Sentry over to check it out.

'… _buzzzz … buzz … buzzzzzz …' _he warned them as he beat his tiny wings in protest at the noisy trio.

"Stop … _giggle _… stop! _… giggle giggle _… I promise! I promise!" Christopher Robin laughed and rolled over, breaking free of his assailant.

'… _buzzzzzzzzz … buzz … buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz …' _the little golden insect took off at high speed at his sudden movement.

Spying the flying projectile, Christopher Robin got up and started running across the Merry Meadow after it, towards the bridge that Gopher had rebuilt.

"Ha ha! I bet I can catch it before you can!" He called back gaily at his two friends who had already taken up hot pursuit.

Running felt so good! He had never got to run much except in the Hundred Acre Wood. Ma'am didn't allow him to run in the house, unless it was to run to his cupboard if someone came to the door. And Master didn't allow him to run outside the house, unless it was to run to a hidey hole so he wouldn't be seen. He tried to run away from cousin, but he could never run fast enough because he would be tripped by his too big trainers. But he could run here. There was nothing to stop him, or tell him no. But even here, he could never run that fast because he couldn't always pretend away his hurts, even though he tried. However, now he felt so good, and with pretend shoes that fit, he felt like he could run like the wind! Nothing could catch him! He bet he could even outrun Cousin! It was almost like flying! It was exhilarating!

Coming to the bridge he finally scooped the little bee out of the air and stopped, leaning over the rail, out of breath but extremely happy, he waited panting while Tigger and Roo caught up.

"Wow! You're fast Christopher Robin!" Tigger said admiringly as the pair bounced up to him. "You could be a tigger you are so quick! You can be on Tigger's team anytime!"

"Thanks Tigger. That was fun! Do you want to play poohsticks now?" Christopher Robin asked, beaming at the praise. He gently let loose his captive loose to receive a stern buzzing reprimand from the irritated insect.

"Okay but we'll need some sticks! I'll get them!" Little Roo volunteered bouncing down to the river edge. Coming back with something clutched in her paws she just looked at Christopher Robin a little accusatorily and with paws on her hips, she tapped her foot at him.

"Christopher Robin! I never thought I would have to say this … but I am ashamed of you!"

"Why Roo? What did I do?" Christopher Robin paled. He had been so happy, now what was wrong? Why was Roo so mad at him? He didn't think he had broken any rules. Master hadn't ever told him he couldn't run at all, just that he couldn't run away from Master to avoid punishment, and that was the only thing he had done, run like the wind. Oh, that must have been it - slaves aren't supposed to have fun. That is only for good boys like Cousin, not property like him. It had just felt so good, that he hadn't been able to stop himself. But how could Roo have found out the truth about him being a slave in the last few minutes?

"This!" and the little Roo held out the bits of the Hogwarts letter he had dropped in the water days before.

"Oh … that," he said flatly.

"Yes … THAT. Why did you rip it up? We were all so happy that you would be coming to Hogwarts. Why did you do it?" Roo pleaded. "Why Christopher Robin - why?"

"I thought …"

"Yes? You thought?"

"Well … I talked to Owl. He said that nothings shouldn't try to be somethings … so I thought … well, I thought …" he was having a hard time coming up with what he thought would be a convincing argument for his friends, without revealing too much.

"Well it seems to me you either thought too much, or thought too little! Either way you didn't think the right amount or you wouldn't have done this." The annoyed little Roo admonished him. "What you need to do, is to think positive!"

"I'm sorry Roo …"

"You should be! I heard Kanga tell you to keep it. This isn't a very good way of doing that."

"I know …"

"Then that's okay! We can fix it!" Roo said brightening. She didn't like to see her friend so sad, and she had yelled at him enough already. And he did look_ really_ sorry …

"How Roo?"

"First we need to find all the bits and then we'll put them back together! We'll have a treasure hunt!"

"Tigger can help! Tigger loves to hunt for treasure! I'll bounce over to the other side of the stream and hunt there!"

"Okay Tigger! And I'll hunt on this side! And Christopher Robin you look from the bridge and see if you can spy any that we miss!"

The plan made, the three friends put it into action. Soon they were gathered again on the grassy bank, with many soggy bits of parchment laid out like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

"How do I put the letter back together if I can't read it?" Christopher Robin asked noticing the humongous hole in Roo's ambitious plan.

"Don't think about it like the writing is _words_, but like it is a _picture_. See how these two pieces go together?" She asked holding up two that the edges matched perfectly.

"I can do that!" he said optimistically.

"Of course you can Christopher Robin! Let's all see how many we can get to match! Tigger can you help us match pieces too?" Roo asked looking over at the orange and black ball of fur that had his head stuck far into the little cloth bag that Christopher Robin had left abandoned on the bank.

Pulling his head out and holding something up, Tigger said triumphantly, "Tigger can do better than that! Tigger found spellotape!"

The three friends pored over the puzzle intently. Christopher Robin and Roo set about matching edges, and Tigger set about taping, until all the bits were once again whole.

"We did it!" Roo said happily clapping her paws.

"We did it!" Christopher Robin echoed.

"Mrmph diddn mrit!" Tigger joined in. "Hephmmnp!"

Looking up at their friend, Roo and Christopher Robin burst into gales of laughter at seeing the Tigger wrapped in ribbons of tape.

"Hephmmnp! Hephmmnp!"

"Are you saying 'Help Help' Tigger?" Roo asked wiping a stray tear from the corner of her eye that had squeezed out with all the laughing.

At a nod from the very tip of Tigger's springy tail, which was the only thing about Tigger not tangled in tape, Christopher Robin tried to stop laughing long enough to help unwrap his friend.

"Silly ol' Tigger!"

"But that just makes me all the more fun!" Tigger bouncing in circle, glad he could bounce free once more.

"Christopher Robin, now that the letter is back together, put in back in your pocket." Roo ordered him. "And this time keep it."

"Okay Roo."

"You know you never did tell me why you tore it up to begin with. Why did you?"

"Well … The Family says magic isn't real."

"But it is! It is!" his friends counter in unison.

"I know that now … well kind of. But at the time, I didn't. And at the time… I-I thought if it _was_ real … that it was … bad."

"But it isn't! It isn't!" his friends reacted.

"I know that now … well kind of. But at the time, I didn't. And at the time… I-I didn't …"

"You didn't what Christopher Robin?" Tigger asked scratching his head in puzzlement.

"I didn't want to go to Hogwarts," he finished softly.

"And now?" Roo asked timidly.

Christopher Robin thought long and hard on that one. Nearly all his friends from the Hundred Acre Woods would soon be leaving for Hogwarts. And next year after Roo left too, he would be all alone. He really wanted to be with his friends, wherever they were, even if it were Hogwarts. It had to be better than the dark abyss with The Family. He didn't like it there, at all. And he didn't know if he stayed, if he would live through another one of Master's lessons.

But only wizards could go to Hogwarts. All of his friends had told him that. Kanga said that he must be a wizard since he got a letter, but he knew that couldn't be right. The letter couldn't have really been meant for him, it had to be a mistake. He didn't have any magic, so he couldn't be a wizard. Master wouldn't allow it anyway. He was just a nothing, a slave. Master didn't allowed him to have anything, he was sure that included magic.

Besides, he was still afraid of magic. The Family had told him for so long that it wasn't real, that it was hard to believe it could exist. And even though he had seen the little snakes come alive, and the box disappear, with his own eyes, he still doubted what he had seen. Those things scared him, and he was frightened of the two men that had come from Hogwarts to see Master. The one man had seemed angry. Even if it was Harry Potter he was angry with, not Boy, and even if the little snakes did say to trust him, he was still scary. And the other man was Dumbledore, and he knew without a doubt that Dumbledore hated him, and he didn't want to be _anywhere_ that Dumbledore was.

Then there was the box! The box disappeared with that horrible paper inside - the one on which Master had made him write that horrible name. He was really frightened of that box. In his mind, the ornately carved box was linked to the horrible things that Master had done to him, and Master had done those horrible things because Dumbledore told him to do them. But the box had disappeared … and that is magic … so maybe the box _was _magic. But where had it gone? The only magic place he had ever heard of was Hogwarts. Only wizards can go to Hogwarts, and Dumbledore came from there, so Dumbledore must be a magic too. Did the box go there? Did it go to Dumbledore when it disappeared? The box was definitely bad, and Dumbledore was definitely bad. If the box and Dumbledore were both bad, and they were both magic, and they were both at Hogwarts … didn't that mean magic also had to be bad? And Hogwarts bad too? Very, very bad indeed.

It was just all so confusing because last night he had seen Miss Tonks' magic in the Garden. And it was very different. It seemed so real, more real than little snakes coming alive, or disappearing boxes. It was fun, and exciting, and happy, and he felt so … so … so … well he wasn't sure exactly what the feeling was, he just knew that it soothed his soul, and he longed for it with all his heart. It was the same feeling he had when he was in the Hundred Acre Wood with his friends. It wasn't just that he's seen it in the garden, even though he had always felt there was something special about it, as if it was a living thing, and he guessed that was a kind of magic too. No, it was something more, something tangible. Miss Tonks' magic had stirred something inside him that he had never felt before. It was all so bewildering. If he just thought about Miss Tonks, and his friends in the Woods, then he would have to say that magic was good. Very, very good indeed.

Trying to reconcile the two vastly different opinions was difficult, but there were common threads. Master had hurt Miss Tonks, just as he had hurt Mercury. Kanga said that the letter Mercury brought him was from Hogwarts. So Mercury must live at Hogwarts too. Then Miss Tonks talked a lot about Hogwarts. Maybe that is where they both were now. If he went to Hogwarts … maybe … maybe he could find Miss Tonks and Mercury and make sure they were all right. He was really worried about them. He had let them down. It was his fault they had gotten hurt. Maybe that would be okay, if he stayed at Hogwarts just long enough to find them - even if he wasn't a wizard.

Maybe … just maybe …

From Miss Tonks' description, it sounded as if Hogwarts was very far away - even more that a kilometre! And a kilometre sounded very long. Boy wondered if it would be as hard to get to Hogwarts, as it was to get to the Hundred Acre Wood. But now that he could run, maybe he could do it. He could try anyway. Besides it was what The Family wanted. They wanted him to disappear as if he never existed. If he could just figure out how to do it, as the box did, and Mercury, and Miss Tonks.

Then maybe … just maybe …

Remembering Miss Tonks' description, it sounded as if there were lots of people at Hogwarts - possibly even more than what were in the Hundred Acre Wood. And it sounded as if it was really big, bigger than the Woods, maybe even bigger than Master's whole house, even with the upstairs! If there were that many people … maybe … just maybe, no one would notice one extra small boy. And if it were that big … maybe … just maybe he could hide well enough that Dumbledore wouldn't ever see him and send him back to Master.

But could he do it? Could he really find a way to disappear and go to Hogwarts with his friends? When he was feeling this good, even that seemed possible.

"Maybe …" he said finally, looking up at them his eyes shining with hope.

His two friends looked back relieved.

"Maybe I do."


	39. Ginny and the Twins Wake Up

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Saturday morning, elevenish August 3rd, 1991

**Chapter 39 – Ginny and the Twins Wake Up**

THUMP THUMP THUMP RATTLE BANG

… _(creep) …_

"Hey Forge?"

"Yes Gred?"

"What are we doing again?"

"Spying on Gin."

"Why?"

"Dunno … for something to do?"

"Good 'nuf for me."

The two brothers lay on their stomachs and peeked over the edge of the floor to the staircase landing below. They were watching their baby sister pulling all sorts of odds and ends out of the storage closet directly beneath them. Ginny was peering at the items intently, and then summarily dismissing them. She was currently studying an old floppy eared bunny that had seen better days. It soon found its way onto the reject pile along with a stuffed dog missing a button eye, and a dingy white cat without a tail or stuffing - all casualties of the rough play, and sticky kisses, of seven boisterous children.

"Gred?"

"Yes Forge?"

"What do you think she's doing?"

"I don't know, can't figure it out. Why … what do you think she's doing?"

"I don't know either."

"Do you think she's gone balmy?"

"Good question Gred … maybe … she is a girl. They do that," he replied thoughtfully.

Leaving the unwanted toys in a topsy-turvy heap, Ginny backed out of the closet, brushed the dust and cobwebs off her cheek with the sleeve of her pyjama top. Sitting back on her heels, she sighed.

"Not in this one either."

Then with the glint of an apparently good idea in her eyes, she took off clattering down the stairs to the next level.

RATTLE RATTLE BUMP THUNK

… _(sneak) …_

"Forge?"

"Yes Gred?"

"If she's gone balmy, do you think we ought to tell Mum and Dad?"

"Nah … they're not back yet anyway."

"Long meeting."

"Yeah."

"What do you think is up?"

"I dunno."

The boys, following their prey, had stopped on the landing Ginny had just abandoned, the discarded contents of the closet strewn haphazardly everywhere. Picking their way carefully over the mounds of litter, and down the stairs, the pair cautiously stole a glance around the corner, to see Ginny divesting yet another closet of its contents. Fred ducked quickly out of the way, as a long forgotten muggle storybook came flying through the air towards his head.

"… gotta be here somewhere … just gotta …" came Ginny's voice from deep within the closet as she flung more bits and pieces out of her way in her desperate search.

CREEEEAK BUMP BUMP BANG TINKLE CRASH

"Oops! I didn't mean to do _that_."

… _(peek) …_

"Gred?"

"Yes Forge?"

"Should we get Bill or Charlie then?"

"They're at the meeting with Mum and Dad."

"Then that means …" George started.

"…PERCY'S IN CHARGE!" Fred's eyes widened in horror as he finished his brother's thought.

"That will never do! Percy is a stickler for neat and orderly. He'll have a hissy fit if he sees Gin's mess. Then there'll be no living with him the rest of the day. We better do something about it … and quick!"

"What do you propose? That _**we**_clean up after Ginny?" Fred protested. This didn't sound like a suggestion George would make … ever. George hated cleaning as much as he did.

"Nah … I propose we grab her. Then we all get out of here before the prat shows up!"

"That's more like the brother I know and love! You had me going there for a minute though. Come to think of it … it would only be sporting of us, really, wouldn't it - to save her from Percy?"

"Indeed it would brother, only sporting. After all, she does seem to be in need of guidance from her wiser and saner older brothers."

The two brothers quietly tiptoed around the corner, and coming up behind Ginny, they …

_**POUNCED!**_

Taking her by surprise, George grabbed her by the feet, and Fred under her arms, and together they carried their squealing and squirming captive back up the stairs, over the obstacle course, into their bedroom, and shut the door behind them. Tossing the struggling Ginny onto Fred's bed, they both proceeded to tickle her unmercifully.

"Stop! Stop! _… giggle … giggle …_ Please stop! Or I'll tell-I'll tell P-P-Percy!" Ginny laughed until her sides hurt.

"After that threat? No mercy young one!" Fred declared, renewing his tickling.

"None at all!" said George joining him.

"Please! … _giggle … _No fair! Two against one! I give! I give!" Ginny laughed gaily, rolling around on the quilt trying to dodge her brother's wiggly fingers.

"What are the magic words?" George demanded.

"Forge and Gred rule! Percy drools!" she giggled again.

"I think she's learned her lesson," Fred observed with satisfaction.

"So Gin … what's with all the spring cleaning? If you haven't noticed spring is long over, it's nearly the end of summer. Don't want to give Mum any ideas now do we?"

Gasping for breath, Ginny sat up and looked thoughtfully at her twin brothers. She had woken from a particularly vivid dream this morning and was feeling vaguely unsettled. It would be nice to talk to someone about it, because she had been having these dreams more and more frequently, and they were starting to worry her. In her dreams, her friend Christopher Robin needed help. And she wanted to help him. She just didn't know how to do it. But the twins were clever, very clever if you believed them, maybe they knew of a way.

"Promise not to laugh at me?"

"Never," Fred replied.

"Cross your heart?"

"Cross my heart … and his too," George answered making the obligatory 'X' on his chest.

"Well … I've been dreaming about this boy …"

"Is our little Gin-Gin having her first crush?" Fred swooned.

"Second crush," George reminded him laughing. "Remember? Gin's had a crush on Harry Potter ever since Mum read her bedtime stories about him."

"You _PROMISED not to laugh!_" Ginny yelled and started to beat on his chest with her fists.

"So I did. I'm sorry Gingerbear. Go on … you were dreaming about a boy …?" George smiled, holding her at arms length and biting back another witty remark that was dancing on the tip of his tongue.

"Well … when I asked Mum about him, she said he was just an imaginary friend and that a lot of kids have one. But I am not so sure he's imaginary. He just seems so real to me, and I'm-I'm worried about him."

"Imaginary friends do seem real. At least mine always did." Fred said kind heartedly.

"You had one too?" Ginny asked doubtfully.

"Still do. Can't ever have enough friends, even imaginary ones! Sometimes they are better than the real thing anyway … they don't argue as much." Fred teased, giving his brother a punch on the arm and thought about the dream he had woken up from this very morning.

Although he wouldn't admit it out loud (even to his own twin), he still dreamt about his own imaginary friend - Christopher Robin. He had been dreaming about him ever since he was a little boy and he used to share his memories of the dreams with George. George said that he had had identical dreams about the same imaginary friend, so they would talk about him as if he was another brother, a third to their two - a triplet. And you know what they say … good things always come in threes.

Christopher Robin had been very real to them when they were younger. However, as they grew older, they knew that he was just imaginary, so they quit talking about him, even though he was sure that George still had dreams about Christopher Robin too. Still, he was a cherished part of their childhood. And other than the fact that neither of them was in a hurry to grow up, as being a kid was way too much fun, he wasn't quite sure why they were both still hanging on to thoughts of an imaginary friend. Perhaps it was just that Christopher Robin was a nice dream, he was fun to play with, and made them happy. Well … they were mostly nice dreams, and mostly happy.

Lately however, the dreams hadn't been that nice. They had been kind of sad, and he had been waking from them with an unsettled feeling that something was wrong with his imaginary friend, until this last dream that is. The dream he woke from this morning, had left him feeling hopeful, happy, and in an extremely good mood, as if everything was finally right with the world. In his dream, he remembered telling Christopher Robin that same thing he just told Ginny about friends … that you can never have enough of them. And he meant it. Having lots and lots of friends was the first step in 'The Weasley Twin's Master Plan to Total Wizarding World Mercantile Domination'.

He and George had come up with Step One of their Master Plan during their first year at Hogwarts. Step One - also known by the code name 'Divide and Conquer', was to build an extensive future customer base. And what better way to do this than to have a lot of friends? To make it more interesting, they created a competition to see who could make the most friends. In the game, what constituted having 'won' the friend was that the person had to accept an invitation to eat lunch, sitting between the two of them at the Gryffindor table, or get the 'new friend' to invite them to eat lunch at the friend's own house table. The other Gryffindors were a cinch. The Hufflepuffs, fairly easy too, the Ravenclaws a bit more suspicious, but they were winning them over one by one. The Slytherins were another matter, but they were even making some headway there.

Right now George was ahead one hundred eleven lunch dates to his one hundred ten, but this was situation that Fred intended to rectify as soon as the term started up again, after all there was an entirely new firsties class coming, about forty new potential clients … ahem 'friends'. Seeing as their new friends never knew which of the pair they had made friends with, to be on the safe side of any pranks the two were plotting, they ended up being friends with both twins. This way, the two made twice as many friends in half the time. Between them, they were friends with practically every student at Hogwarts. And as all true entrepreneurs knew, it was never too early to start building a loyal clientele.

Step Three in their Master Plan came as an inspiration during their second year. They had a guest lecturer during one of their Defence against the Dark Arts classes, an Auror by the name of Mad-Eye Moody. They had been quite impressed with his exceedingly paranoid outlook. Moody had told them that they should never eat or drink anything that they didn't know exactly who had made and from what. 'Constant Vigilance' was his mantra. This was another bit of sage advice he remembered passing along to Christopher Robin in his dream, along with every parent's advice of never taking candy from strangers, as he felt quite parental towards his imaginary friend who, in his dreams, always seemed so naïve compared to his own worldly experience.

Listening to Moody, it dawned on the twins that there were far more people who didn't follow his wise advice, than who did. It seemed an entrepreneurial opportunity begging to be taken advantage of, and they were just the two to do it. They came up with a perfect way to combine all their passions - pranks, potions, and pasties. What better way to disguise a prank potion, they schemed, than in a terribly tasty tidbit? But they needed time and resources to develop them. The only avenue they could come up with was a path that led them directly to the Hogwarts dungeons and to Professor Snape, the most feared teacher in the castle.

The twins decided that Snape wasn't as formidable as he would have everyone think. Maybe it was just that he appreciated their enthusiasm for his class, or maybe it was their innate gift for potions that he admired, or perhaps it was that the sorting hat had suggested putting both of them into Slytherin, and Snape had been able to recognized another true snake when he saw them. But whatever the reason, they had managed to wheedle their way into Professor Snape's somewhat dubious, and reluctant, good graces. He allowed them a little extra curricular time in the potions lab under the guise of 'independent study', where they had managed to create a few moderately successful prank potions. They were successful enough, to make some pocket money, selling a few of them to their nearest and dearest. Enough of a success, to give birth to an idea for Step Three, to open their own shop - 'Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes' and sell tricks and treats to all their friends.

The only tiny obstacle that they could see to their Master Plan was the Very Large Step Two that they had prudently skipped entirely - have a lot of investment money. There wasn't a Weasley that they knew of that had that kind of spare coin just lying about, at least none that would name them as heirs, so they didn't think they could count on an inheritance anytime soon. They would just have to keep an eye open for a wealthy investor, preferably one with the foresight and wisdom to remain a silent partner. With that one small exception, they thought that all in all, it was not a bad plan.

Pushing thoughts of their future success aside, Fred focused again on the conversation that his brother had continued with Ginny.

"But as real as they may seem Gin … they are still imaginary. You really don't have to worry about it. Mum explained imaginary friends to us. They are really just something to help you deal with things you're trying to think through when something is bothering you."

"But there isn't anything that is bothering me that I need to think through, other than my dreams." Ginny said sceptically. "It seems a bit round about to have dreams to think through dreams that you wouldn't have to think through to begin with if you didn't have the dream. What would be the point?"

"Well I think …" George was at a loss on how to explain the error in her circular logic, when he couldn't see it himself. He looked to his brother for support.

"Well I think …" Fred started and then ran into the same problem, and ended up just scratching his head and shrugging.

"Well it seems to me you both either thought too much, or thought too little! Either way you didn't think the right amount or you would understand." The annoyed Ginny admonished them in a very déjà vu moment. She remembered yelling at Christopher Robin about not thinking things through either. It must be a boy thing she thought derisively. Which just proved to her all the more that Christopher Robin must be real and not just made up. If she had just made him up, wouldn't he act more like her, than like her stupid brothers? Come to think of it … he wouldn't have been a boy at all! If she were going to make up a friend, she would have made up a girl to play with. Goodness knows she had always wanted a sister.

"It's just hard to explain Gin. But rest assured dreams are just that - dreams. And your imaginary friend is just that - imaginary. Someone you made up in your mind, so you don't really need to worry about him," George tried to comfort her.

"But if the boy in my dreams _isn't_ just imaginary … and he needs my help … how do I do it?" Ginny persisted, ignoring his insinuation that the problem was just in her own head.

"What kind of help do you think he needs Gin? Maybe if you tell us, we can figure out what is really bothering you." Fred suggested.

"Well … he wants to go to Hogwarts, but he doesn't know how to get there. He's kind of 'stuck' where he is."

George startled a little at that. He had had a dream himself that morning about his own imaginary friend, and in the dream, they had a similar conversation. He used to share his imaginary friend with Fred, in fact most of the time it seemed that not only did they share Christopher Robin, they also shared the same dream. Whenever he would wake up from one, so would Fred. And whenever they compared notes on their dreams, they were identical. It was as if in the dream, they were both the same one person instead of two, doing the same things, saying the same things, thinking the same things, and unaware the other was there. When they first started to share the dream, it was a little freaky, feeling as if instead of being a 'twin' they were a 'single'. But then they just chocked it up to another 'twin' thing, like finishing each other sentences, or picking out identical clothes to wear.

Neither he nor Fred liked the feeling of being a 'single', even in a dream. They had always done everything together. It was as if they weren't complete without the other half. They found comfort knowing the other one was always there. But being the clever boys they were, they figured out how to overcome even this dream obstacle. They found that in their dream if they moved really quickly they could feel the other one there sometimes. As if they ran in a circle fast enough, they would be able to catch up to themselves. So in their dream they assumed the persona of a tiger that could move really quickly. Problem solved! And they took to bouncing in their dream body whenever possible, so they would be able to feel their twin with them. And actually, they decided they liked bouncing very much. It was fun and felt quite a lot like flying, which was a favourite pastime of them both. Favourite to almost everything, except maybe tickling Ginny, of course, pranking Percy ranked right up there too.

However, once they started at Hogwarts and they felt that they were too old for things like imaginary friends, and had come to an unspoken truce to quit talking about him. Still, George dreamt about Christopher Robin anyway, and every once in a while he got the urge to talk to Fred about the dreams again, as he thought that Fed was still having them too. He was almost sure he could feel his presence in the dreams. But then he always thought better of it, after all that was just kid stuff, and they were teenagers now, and both too old for it. Also, Fred apparently didn't want to talk about it or he would have by now. If it was all his imagination, and Fred wasn't still having the same dreams about Christopher Robin that he was, than he would never live down the teasing.

But this was Ginny's dream, her imaginary friend, not his. And while he woke from his dream about Christopher Robin that morning, feeling very happy and optimistic, as if a big problem had finally been resolved, evidently Ginny had not woken from her dream with the same cheery outlook.

"I think I know what is bothering you Gin," George said gently giving his brother a knowing look.

"You do?" Ginny asked hopefully.

"Yes I believe he does, and I think I do too. Come here …" Fred added, sitting down on the edge of the bed and drawing his little sister to him in a big hug. She was the thing he missed most whenever they left for Hogwarts - his little sister. In another year, she would be coming too. But right now, she would be left behind, once again, and this time with no one else left to play with, since this would be Ron's first year. They should have seen it earlier and been more sensitive.

George sat down on her other side and gave her a hug too. "We think you are just missing us already Ginny. Pretty soon, we'll all be at school and you won't have any one left here to play with, or to keep Mom from mothering you too much. But it won't be long until it is your turn to get on the Hogwarts Express. In fact, for me, it will be all too soon. It will mean my baby sister is growing up. And I for one am not sure if I can deal with that thought. I may have to have my own imaginary friend help me out. Maybe I can send him over to your dreams to keep you company while we are gone. How would you like that?"

"So you have an imaginary friend too? Like Fred does?"

"Yeah, I do … just like Fred. Exactly like Fred. In fact, you might even say identical to Fred's." The two brothers exchanged looks over her head. Both looked a little sheepish as they realized they had both just admitted out loud to still dreaming about Christopher Robin.

"I wish that your imaginary friend and Fred's, and mine were all the same boy." Ginny said a little wistfully.

"Why is that young one?" Fred asked.

"Because I still want to help him, even if he is still just in a dream, and if he was your imaginary friend too, then maybe you could figure out a way to help. I just don't know how to do it … that's why I was searching the closets."

"What does trying to help your imaginary friend in your dreams, have to do with your spring cleaning while you are awake?" George asked.

"Because that's where he lives."

"In our closets?"

"Yes … well at least I think he does. Anyway he lives in a closet _somewhere_. I just couldn't find the right one."

Fred looked at his distraught sister's face. She was starting to tear up. He couldn't stand it when she cried and he would do pretty much anything to make sure she didn't. Even making a fool of him self if that's what it took.

"Tell you what Gin. Lets you, and me, and George, take another look. Maybe if we help you look, we can put your mind at rest. Okay?"

"We'll make it a treasure hunt!" George added, getting into the spirit of the hunt.

"Okay … thanks." Ginny sniffled and blew her nose loudly on a handkerchief Fred handed her.

George picked her up piggy-back style and the trio proceeded to scavenge through every closet, cupboard, drawer, and hidey hole in the entire Burrow. They even searched the closet in Ron's room, while he was still snoring deeply, dead to the world. Other than a Bogart in the desk, and the family clock, which for some reason, was stashed in the cupboard under the stairs leading the attic loft of their father's workshop, everything was in its place. No stray little boy could be found hiding anywhere.

Stopping once again on the stairs landing, they helped Ginny shove the contents back inside the closet and slammed the door closed, before the pending avalanche could escape once more.

"Hey don't forget this," Fred said picking up the forgotten storybook off from the stairs and tossing it to George who was standing by the closet door. "Ginny almost beamed me with it earlier."

"I'm not opening that door again," George said warily tossing the book back. "You open it."

"I'm not going to open it. You open it," Fred returned tossing it back again.

"It's not my book, you do it."

"Not mine either, I think its Ron's."

"Then he should do it."

"Yeah! That's the ticket - let's wake Ron!"

"Oh, just give it here you chickens!" Ginny said grabbing the book out of the air as the two boys played hot potato with it. Walking into her room she tossed it carelessly on her bookshelf with her other books, than sat down on her bed dejected. "Why argue over an old baby's storybook, when I still can't find my friend? We've searched everywhere."

"Well not quite _everywhere. _There is one closet left unsearched," Fred reminded her.

"Percy's," George acknowledged with a nod.

"Where's the prat at anyway? I didn't see him when we were searching the house and workshop."

"He's out in the orchard. He's sitting under a tree and studying that Prefect's rule book of his like it was written by Merlin himself."

"He's going to make our lives miserable isn't he?"

"Yep."

"Well … shall we just take a quick look-see while he is otherwise occupied?" Fred asked.

"Yes, I think we should." George replied. "Race you there!"

George took off at high speed across the landing and into Percy's room first. As Fred followed him through the door with Ginny, he whacked him over the head with one of Percy's pillows. In retaliation, Fred grabbed the other pillow off the bed and began his own assault. As the two occupied themselves with a pillow fight, Ginny searched Percy's closet.

"Nothing here either," she sighed. Ginny hadn't really gotten her hopes up. Christopher Robin said he lived under the stairs, not in a bedroom closet. Besides, she was sure if there had been a little boy living in Percy's closet, he would have noticed him by now. That was one thing she could say about Percy, he normally spotted when something was out of place. And granted, Christopher Robin was small, but he wasn't_ that_ small. He was bigger than she was, so he would have been hard to miss entirely. Still, her brothers were right - she was glad she had checked.

"I'm sorry Gin. I was hoping we would find something. I don't like it when my baby sister worries so much," Fred called out sympathetically as he ducked a pillow wielded by George, only to have to have his own catch on a bed post and rip open.

"Me too Ginny, but at least we tried. I suppose imaginary friends only live in imaginary closets," George added as he ducked Fred's pillow just as it let loose its contents in a voluminous cloud of feathery snow.

"_**WILL YOU TWO EVER GROW UP!"**_ Percy shouted as he stood in his doorway, covered with feathers, fuming as he surveyed his once neat-as-a-pin room, which now more closely resembled the inside of a hen house.

"Aren't we tall enough already?" George countered.

"Yeah, we're already taller than you," Fred jibed, just to earn him a dirty look from Percy, who was very sensitive about his height.

"I won't even bother to ask you what you are doing having a pillow fight in _**my**_ room," Percy seethed. "All I will say is that you better get this mess cleared up. I don't want a feather left to be seen - ANYWHERE!"

"Who says you're the boss of us?"

"Mum, that's who. She left me in charge while they are at the meeting. That reminds me, that's why I came up here - Bill just floo called. He said he and Charlie would be here to pick us all up at half past eleven, and said to make sure you're ready. They don't want to be late."

"Pick us up for what?" Ginny asked.

"Some sort of a party. We are to wear our very best muggle clothes."

"Muggle clothes?"

"What's up?" George and Fred asked in unison.

"I don't know. That's all he said." Percy said, obviously miffed at being left out of the informational loop. "Now, I better go try and wake up Ron … again." Percy said rolling his eyes. On the way out the door added, "What did I tell you? Get hopping!"

As Percy stalked off up the stairs towards Ron's room they could hear him muttering, "… gotta get a lock for my door … maybe Dad will put a spell on it for me …"

"Well … you heard the man," Fred grinned.

"Yes, and after all, he_** is**_ the boss of us …" George grinned back.

"So we_** must**_ do as he says," Fred finished with a mischievous glint.

"What are you two up to now?" Ginny asked suspiciously.

"Just …_ hopping_ to it!" The laughed in unison and they began bouncing on top of Percy's bed.

"I don't think that is what he had in mind," Ginny said doubtfully.

"Then he should learn to choose his words more carefully," George said bouncing high enough to bang his head on the ceiling above.

"Yes, he should learn to be more specific. After all, he is a Prefect now." Fred agreed, bouncing until he heard the bed frame crack ominously below.

"Boys!" Ginny snorted as she headed back to her own room to get dressed.

The talk with her brothers hadn't really helped as she had hoped. She was still certain that if she looked long enough, that she would find the right cupboard, and rescue her friend Christopher Robin. She wasn't really sure what she would find, when she found the right one, if it would be Christopher Robin himself, or just a doorway into the dark abyss where he was trapped, but she knew she had to keep looking. She just knew that both he and the door were real, and not pretend. No matter what they said. She wasn't a 'baby' and her friend wasn't just 'made up'. She just had to find the right door to prove it. And then she would see who got the last laugh.

Ginny was worried that Christopher Robin wouldn't be able to find his way to Hogwarts on his own. She was fairly certain that he still didn't know how to get there, even if he did try to go, as he said he might. He needed her help. The walrus and the horse might try to stop him. She didn't like them. Christopher Robin always got so quiet and sad whenever she asked him about them, so she knew he didn't like them either. They were just plain mean.

No, talking with her brothers had just made her more determined to continue her search, not less so.

It didn't make her feel any better.

Not at all.


	40. But it's all right now

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Language and mention of extreme child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Saturday just before noon, August 3rd, 1991

**Chapter 40 – I went to a Garden Party**

**Part One: But it's all right now**

"Oh good, you're back and just in time too. The circus that you laughing refer to as your children has finally arrived," Snape quipped nastily to Arthur and Molly Weasley as they came in Arabella Figg's front door, just as all seven of their red-headed children tumbled out of her floo, some more gracefully than others.

"Thank you for waiting until we got back Severus, I appreciate it. I didn't want the children to arrive at a strange floo with no one here to tell them where we were, and Arabella needed to go over the judging procedures with us," Molly said gratefully.

"You are welcome Mrs. Weasley," the Potions Master returned. "However, I still cannot fathom why your husband found it necessary to bring your entire brood along on this mission. It seems to me that this is neither the time, nor the place, for a 'family outing' as he put it."

"If you must know my reasons Severus, I'd be happy to tell you." Arthur replied quietly and pulling Severus aside so that his children would not overhear what he was about to say. "First of all, I think it is the perfect time and place to have the children with us, since we are going to be dealing with children."

"What does that have to do with it?" Severus asked doubtfully.

"For the primary fact that my children are still children. We are here for two young boys who, as far as we know, know nothing of magic or of our world. And while we are certain that they have been abusing Harry, we don't know about Dudley."

"You forget Arthur - I have seen Dudley Dursley," Snape interrupted. "Other than being grossly overweight, incredibly pampered, and exceedingly coddled, I could see nothing wrong with him."

"I saw him too Severus, true it was not as closely as you did, and while I didn't see anything outwardly wrong, we must keep in mind that it is quite possible that Dursley didn't stop his abuse with his nephew. Children have a way of hiding things from adults. We could have two traumatized young boys to deal with, not just one, both of whom may become very frightened of a horde of unfamiliar, fully grown wizards, descending on them. I thought the presence of someone closer to their own age and size might help calm them if that's the case."

"That is a reasonable explanation for the presence of your two youngest offspring, and the older two are acceptable as they are Order Members, and your middle son is … marginal, but why pray tell, are your … _twins …_ here?"

Severus had to begrudging admit that he was actually quite impressed with Arthur's reasoning on this issue. Not being a father himself, the sensitive nature of children sometimes eluded him. He could definitely see where Arthur was thinking as a father for the benefit of two young boys that he didn't even know. However, he still shuddered as he observed the cheeky duo in question. The Weasley twins were a handful at the best of times. How he let them talk him into using the potions lab at Hogwarts after hours, he would never understand, but he suspected that they had drugged his tea with their own prank version of a liquid Imperius curse. It was the only rational explanation that he could come up with to explain his uncharacteristic lack of judgment.

"Well … simply put, it is because I couldn't trust them not to kill Percy if I left the three of them alone at the Burrow."

"Ah … I understand," Snape returned knowingly. In less than five minutes, the twins had already caused two of Arabella's kneazles, Mr. Tibbles and Mr. Paws, to retreat to the top of her bookshelf where they sat hissing at the pair with their backs up and their claws drawn.

"You do? Then maybe you can explain it to me …" Arthur started hopefully, but at the stern look of disapproval on the Potion Masters face thought better of it, and continued with listing his reasons instead. "… oh well fine. Then secondly I also thought that as this is a muggle neighbourhood event, that children would be expected to attend. It will help with our 'cover' so we won't look out of place to the Dursleys, while we try to get into the house and rescue Harry."

"Surely you jest?" Snape mocked, his eyebrows arching at the irony of Arthur honestly believing that his offspring could go anywhere as a group and not stand out.

"No, really! It will be a great cover, and Molly and I are the only members of the Order with children to bring," he shrugged. "Trust me Severus, all we need to do is give them a few instructions and they'll be fine. There's nothing like a handful of spirited children to distract people's attention with a well placed diversion or two. Thirdly, I also thought that … George! Quit that!"

"I'm Fred, Dad. Don't you know your own son?"

"Okay Fred you quit that too! Now as I was starting to say Severus, I also thought that having the children here would be a calming element. You know … keep all the adults from doing something we might regret later."

"Are you saying that the Dursleys don't deserve whatever happens to them?" Remus snarled, coming in through the kitchen and joining the conversation.

After Poppy woke from her nap, he had left Tonks in her capable hands. Then, at the very first chance that he had to slip away unnoticed, he flooed immediately to Surrey. Unfortunately, Arthur and Kingsley were right about the wards. He hadn't been able to put a dent in them, but for his efforts, they in turn had put plenty of dents in him. Since then, he had been pacing a rut in Arabella's backyard, practicing his quick draw wand movements and plotting revenge, as he watched the time pass by … minute by excruciating slow minute.

"Not at all Remus. I just think that what you have in mind would be better done _after_ we have _both_ boys safely away, not before."

"I suppose you're right," he admitted begrudgingly. "Poppy reminded me of that too. The Dursley's are Dudley's parents, we would be no better than Death Eaters if we harmed them in front of him. Ah … no offense Snape."

"None taken wolf, I assure you." Severus said dryly, his dark eyes impassive and unreadable. '_They are never going to let me forget, for even one teensy minute that I took the dark mark, are they?'_

"What I said goes for you too Severus," Arthur spoke up. "I heard what you said at the meeting. I don't want to see any of us, including you, end up in Azkaban over the likes of Vernon Dursley. He isn't worth it. Karma has a way of exacting its own revenge that is usually more creative and fitting than anything we can come up with."

"You have nothing to fear from me Weasley. I will keep myself restrained. However, I will not be responsible for anyone else. Just keep the wolf and your children under control, and …_out of my way_," Snape added as he winced at the sound of a loud crash coming from the kitchen area, followed by Molly's shouting.

'_Karma - foolish man! Doesn't he know that karma is just another name for unintended consequences? My policy is to never leave anything to unintended consequences.' _However, what else could he expect from a Gryffindor he snorted, but optimistic bravery swimming in chaos. He should have learned by now not to expect the cool calm reasoning of Slytherin, no matter how promising at the onset. He shook his head in resignation.

"Since you are here I will take my leave for the temporary headquarters at Number 6. The others are already there. I trust you will 'instruct' your children adequately."

"Fine Severus, let Albus know we'll be along in a few minutes," Arthur agreed as Severus Snape swept out of the house and down the front walk.

"We'll see you there Dad, Charlie and I are going to head on over with Professor Snape." Bill remarked as the pair also left for Number 6.

Remus, eager to finally get on with the mission, ran to catch up with them. It was almost noon! It was almost time for Arabella's magic ticket to work its small miracle and make it possible for him to get past those blasted wards. He had promised Tonks to find her little one for her. Hell he had promised himself as well! It had been too many years already and he wasn't willing to wait any longer. Too many years of not knowing, too many years of hoping, too many years of being denied.

Now, it was finally almost time, and this time - the ministry be damned. This time he finally knew where Harry was, the missing piece of his family, his missing cub. He was finally going to have his Harry safe in his arms. It wasfinally going to be all right.

As the four men disappeared around the corner of Wisteria Walk, Arthur Weasley gathered the rest of the troops.

"Molly! Kids! Come here! Gather round!" Arthur called out getting their attention.

Molly came to stand by his side as the remaining five children lined up in front of them. Arthur looked at them all proudly. '_Yes this was a good decision_,' he thought.

"Now children, I am sure you all want to know what we are doing today …" As they started to chime in with rapid questions, Arthur held up his hands for quiet. "Let me finish first! And then if you have any questions that I can answer, I will. Agreed?"

The kids all nodded their agreement and closed their mouths.

"We need your cooperation with a very special mission for the Order of the Phoenix. Today the muggles are having what they call a 'Garden Fete'. It is a type of competition where they show off their flower gardens and the winner gets a prize."

"Ooh! Like the one Mum entered a couple years ago in the village!" Ron piped upped, his comment immediately eliciting groans from the twins.

"We don't have to degnome anything do we?" Fred and George asked hitting their foreheads in mock horror.

"No boys, you don't, and what did I say about questions?" Arthur asked, his stern look only succeeding in getting grins in return.

"Um ... we don't remember Dad," the twins shrugged. Arthur sighed. It would be an uphill battle to prove to Severus that this was a good idea.

"Just pay attention alright? Now, you are all attending the Fete as guests. Your mother and I are judges for the competition and earlier we visited all the gardens entered in the competition, except for one. The owners of the last garden did not … um … 'invite' us in to judge before the general public was allowed to enter, so we will be going there next. This garden is at Number 4 Privet Drive, and belongs to a Mr. and Mrs. Dursley. That is where you all come in. We would like you to help us divert the attention of the Dursleys from anything that any member of the Order may be doing. Can you do that for us?"

Ginny timidly raised her hand, at some elbow prodding from Ron.

"Yes Ginny?"

"May I ask a question now Daddy?"

"Sure sweetie," Arthur said indulgently. Ginny was his baby, and the only Weasley daughter for many generations. She had him pretty much wrapped around her little finger.

"Why are you and Mum judging the muggle flower show?"

"_That wasn't my question Ginny! I wanted to know if they were going to have food! I missed breakfast and lunch." _Ron whispered loudly over his growling tummy.

"_Well it was my question Ron! And I guess you just shouldn't have slept so late," _she whispered back.

"I'll get to your question, Ron, but right now Ginny's is a good one to start with because that was what I was about to tell you next."

"_So there!" _ Ginny whispered back at Ron sticking out her tongue.

"We volunteered to be judges for the competition to ensure that we would be able to go into that one Garden in particular so that we could talk with the Dursleys. Now you are all probably wondering why we want to go there and why being a judge would make this possible." Arthur looked around to see the curiosity evident on every face. "Well I can't go into all the details, but to make a very long story very short, we are going there to help two young wizards who are Ron's age."

All the kids started asking questions on top of each other again, until Molly whistled for silence.

"All we know is that they are wizard children. We don't know how much, if anything, they know about magic, and the adult muggles in the house are not known to be very receptive to our world. And sad to say, we suspect that one if not both boys may have been … ah … mistreated … because of it. So we must be cautious and proceed with the utmost care around all of them. If you see either of the two boys, we expect you to be kind and compassionate."

"_VERY_ kind and _VERY_ compassionate," Molly emphasized. "One of the boys is the son of the Dursley's. From what I have heard he is a blonde and um … they say large for his age. His name is Dudley." Molly stopped to pause and give the twins a stern look when they snickered at the name. "The other boy is the Dursley's nephew. He is just the opposite of Dudley. He has black hair and is small for his age. His name is Harry, but we are not sure if he … ah … actually goes by that name. In fact, it has been reported that it seems to rather upset him to be called by it. So we have been advised to just call him 'little one' for now."

"_Little one_?" Percy interjected, incredulous at what his mum just asked him to do, his fifteen-year-old sensibilities in a snit. "But that's not a proper name! That's something you would call a baby, or maybe a kitten or a puppy. I can't call another _boy_ 'little one' it just wouldn't be right. I thought you said he was Ron's age!"

"He is Percy. But we've heard that in addition to being a bit small for his age, he is extremely shy. If we call him 'little one' it may make him feel that he is safe and among friends," she said mentally adding _'And its better than any of the choice names those monsters call him.'_ "So just do it Percy, okay? For me?" Molly pleaded.

"Okay Mum. I will." Percy replied reluctantly while thinking _'…but I won't like it.' _

"Of the two boys, it is 'little one' in particular that we are the most anxious to contact. So if any of you see him, _IMMEDIATELY _tell the closest Order Member," Molly instructed.

"Why would there be a problem seeing him?" Ron asked curious. "Does he have an invisibility cloak?"

"No honey, nothing like that. As I said he is just very shy and he tends to … hide."

"Hide? Like in the game Hide-and-Seek?"

"Yes exactly Ron! And apparently, he is quite good at it. So we must keep a sharp eye out for him. The Headmaster and Professor Snape visited the house several nights ago, and never saw him," Molly told them.

"Now, because of the … er … strong negative feeling the adults have to magic," Arthur continued. "The Headmaster thought it best visit them disguised as muggles, so as to … ah … so as to not 'upset' them. Even though the adult muggles do not care for magic, the house itself is protected by magical wards because of the boys. These wards are the reason why we had to wait until the Garden Fete starts to enter. As Mrs. Dursley is known for her competitive bent in this competition, as judges we are assured that no matter what else happens, that Mrs. Dursley will want your mother and I to enter. During the competition, anyone who has a ticket may enter through the wards, but we wanted that added insurance that the invitation would not be withdrawn. You mother has an entrance ticket for each of you so don't lose it. You can't enter the garden without it."

"Dad, may I ask another question?" Percy inquired deep in thought.

"Go ahead Percy. What do you want to know?"

"I understand, where Professor Dumbledore, as the headmaster of Hogwarts, has a vested interest in insuring that any potential student is contacted, but isn't this overkill? If there were a problem with muggle-born wizards in a muggles home, I would think the proper thing to do would be to follow the rules and turn the matter over to the Ministry of Magic. Why is the Order of the Phoenix taking the matter into their hands?"

"Ah … good question Percy," Arthur exchanged a meaningful look with Molly.

They had discussed in length, just how much, if anything, to tell the children about Harry's situation and what all he had been through. They decided until they had him safe in their home, that the less they told them the better. Just in case anything went wrong. After they had him safe, and a part of their family, they would take it from there. At that point, they would need all the children's help and cooperation at that point to start Harry healing both physically and mentally. They knew that they would have to tell them, at least part of it, sooner or later. But right now, it was all still in the 'later' category.

"In most cases that would be true, however this is a _very_ special case. Remember the other day when we were talking, and I said that not every rule should be enforced every time? Well this is one of those times. As I said before, I can't go into all the details with you, so I will just ask you to trust your mother and me on the necessity to keep the Ministry out of it for now. Can you do that for us?"

Percy reluctantly nodded his agreement. It felt wrong. He really preferred it when everyone stuck to the rules, but he had promised his dad to try and be more flexible.

As Molly began handing them all a ticket, she started going over her own expectations.

"The rules I want you to follow are simple. One - be polite," she looked intently at Ron while saying this.

"What? Why are you looking at me Mum? I'm ALWAYS polite."

"Yes dear, I know you do try. It's jut that sometimes you have a habit of saying things you shouldn't. So just be careful of what you say around the muggles. In fact, and this goes for all of you, it might be best if you don't talk directly to the muggles at all if you can help it."

"Yes Mum," Ron muttered red-faced.

"Two - no destroying property," she said turning an equally intense gaze on the twins.

"What? Us?" They asked unabashed and with just a hint of pride at the distinction of being singled out for the warning.

"Yes. You." Molly said sternly.

"Yes Mum. We'll be good," they chorused with identical angelic looks on their faces.

"And three - if it looks as if any member of the Order is moving to take out their wand, you are to get your sister leave the Fete immediately. Come back here to Mrs. Figg's and floo directly home to the Burrow. No detours," she said this time directly to Ginny.

"Ah Mum!" Ginny whined. "But that when it will just be starting to get interesting! Why do I always have to be the one to leave?"

"Ginevra Molly Weasley! Promise me right this minute young lady you will abide by my rules, or you are staying here." Molly demanded, withholding handing her a ticket.

"Yes Mum … I promise," Ginny agreed subdued. Taking the ticket she tucked it safely it in her skirt pocket before her mother could change her mind.

"Hey! Don't you have a rule for Percy too?" Ron protested. _'…and I am polite.'_

"Percy is a Prefect now. He's proven he can act responsibly," Arthur answered. "I am trusting that the rest of you will follow his lead. Your mother and I will be busy so Percy will be in charge of you. Don't give him any trouble, and do what he says. Bill and Charlie have their own assignments," he added quickly knowing his youngest four were about to object vehemently.

"Don't worry Dad, I'll watch out for them." Percy said smugly in his superiority, his shadow of doubt about helping with the mission vanishing in the bright aura of his newly appointed power.

"Thank you Percy," Molly added. "There is one last rule I want to make very clear to all of you, and it is the most important of all. Four - under_ NO_ circumstances are _ANY_ of you to be alone with _EITHER_ Mr. _OR _Mrs. Dursley. _ALWAYS _make sure an Order member is close by. This is very, very important. Do I have your promise?"

"Yes Mum," they all chorused faithfully.

"Let's be off then, shall we? Just head right down Wisteria Walk, turn right again, go two blocks down Privet Drive and go into Number 6. The rest of the Order is waiting there. And remember when we go to the Fete … as far as anyone knows we are a completely ordinary muggle family. Please don't do anything to change their minds." Arthur said, inspecting each child carefully before he let them out the front door.

"You look fine Percy, and you too Ginny. You'll both blend in nicely," he said with approval at their attire. Percy looked very tidy and normal in a brown jumper and matching slacks, while Ginny was wearing a pink jumper and a navy blue skirt. "George … Fred …" he sighed and shook his head. "Didn't Percy tell you that you were to wear your muggle clothes?"

"I told them!" Percy called back over his shoulder. Nobody was going to blame him for what the twins did!

"Shove it Perce!" they called back at him.

"Boys! Do you want me to send you home already?"

"But Dad! Percy also said our 'very best' clothes and these are our best." Fred and George said proudly of their bright orange Chudley Cannon's shirts with the double 'C' streaking logo emblazoned in black print across the back.

"Besides, our muggle shirts are too small. We grew this summer," Fred continued.

"And muggle clothes don't grow with you like wizard ones do," George finished the argument.

"Well, it's too late to do anything about it now." Arthur sighed … _when they're right, they're right_. "Go on with you."

The twins grinned at their Dad and followed their sister and older brother out the door. Arthur was still watching the pair traipsing down the front walk with a spring in their step, their red hair clashing horribly with the glaring orange and black shirts, when Ron started to slip by him. Arthur put out a hand to stop him.

"Ron, I appreciate you wanting to wear the Hogwarts pin I gave you everywhere. However, you had better put it in your pocket for now. If the Dursley's see it they might react badly."

"But that's not fair! The twins get to wear their Quidditch shirts!" Ron blustered, silently kicking himself for not having thought of the same argument as his brothers and having worn a more comfortable shirt. The one he had on was a horrible mustard yellow colour and several inches too short in the sleeves. It was hot already being wool, but it was the best muggle one he had.

"I doubt if the Dursleys have ever heard of the Chudley Cannons so they won't recognize the logo, or realize that it is a wizarding Quidditch team. But they have heard of Hogwarts from Professor Dumbledore and are not very open to being reminded of it."

"Yes, Dad." Ron reluctantly unpinned the little medallion and shoved it deep in his pants pocket before following the rest of his siblings out the door. _'It's always me …'_ he thought, _'… Geeze the twins got to wear their shirts and I can't even wear my pin.'_

"Oh, and Ron … I 'm not sure about the food. However, if there is any, remember what you mother said about being polite!" Arthur called after him.

'_I AM POLITE!' _ Ron pouted to himself. _ 'Some party this is shaping up to be. Getting yelled at already and I haven't even done anything. I should have just stayed in bed,'_ he thought with a grumble. _'I hope they at least have cake.'_

"The kids are off, that just leaves us Molly. You look beautiful as always. Particularly fetching in the hat."

Molly curtsied at the compliment, the posies pinned to her large brimmed garden hat bobbing in agreement.

"So... how do I look? Passable as a muggle?" Arthur asked brushing down the sleeves of his bomber jacket, and dusting off the legs of his pinstriped slacks.

"Not perfect, but oh so handsome. You make a very dashing muggle," Molly replied admiringly straightening his collar. "I always did like that jacket on you."

"Ah... we better get going too my sweet … shall we do this?" Arthur asked, taking Molly's hand in his as he closed Arabella's door behind him.

"Yes, my love. Let's go get our son. I've waited long enough."

"You realize don't you, that we might end up with two new children - not just one. It could get crowded at the Burrow."

"We'll find a way to make room, we always have."

"But nine children Molly … it might be a problem. The way the ministry has been spending Harry's inheritance, I doubt there is anything left, and if the Dursley's refuse to support Dudley when they find out he is a wizard too … there will be all that many more books, and robes, and food …"

"But such a happy problem to have Arthur. Money is just money. I don't care if they come without a Knut between the two of them. There is no price on children. We'll find a way to manage, we always do. I want them," she said determinedly.

As they walked down the sidewalk toward Privet drive, their children running and laughing in front of them, their fingers entwined and Arthur squeezed her hand. How did he ever get so lucky in a life mate?

Molly squeezed his hand back and mentally sent a message to her soon-to-be son. _'It's all right now. I know it's been bad, but I'm on my way, just hold on a little while longer.'_

She could feel it deep within her heart. She finally knew where he was, the missing piece of her family, her missing son. She was going to have her Harry safe in her arms. It _was _finally going to be all right.

Rounding the corner of Wisteria Walk onto Privet Drive, they could see that two blocks ahead a large crowd had already gathered in front of the entrance to the garden at Number 4. The waiting mob was so large that it had spilled off the sidewalk, into the street, and encroached on the neighbouring yards. There even seemed to be news crews hovering. What could possibly be happening, they wondered as they called to the children to not get so far ahead.

Arthur's heart leapt into his throat, and he gripped Molly's hand tighter with fear, as he jumped immediately to the conclusion that the Order was not the only ones who had found a way in past the wards. Had Death Eaters beaten them there? He mentally cursed Arabella for indiscriminately selling tickets to just anyone. Quickening their pace, his heart started to beat again as they drew near and he could see that the crowd were all muggles, and that their faces held looks of absolute wonder, and not utter terror.

Looking past them, to glimpse what they were all gawking at, he saw the source of their awe - Tonks' gardening spells at her finest. He remembered her mentioning only that she had done 'a bit of weeding here and there' to help little one do his chores, but he never imagined it was anything like this. From the looks of it, Tonks had obviously been out to impress her young friend with the glories of magic. Arthur shook his head in dismay. As much as he admired Tonks style, this was not the way for the Order to go in discreetly. No matter how you looked at it, it could not be good to herald their arrival, by draping the entire yard of such devout magic-haters, with such blatant unadulterated magic.

Quickly herding his children up the walk of the house next door, and into the front room, he could see his thoughts echoed on the face of Albus Dumbledore, who was standing in the front window studying the house at Number 4 with a frown. Severus stood next to him glowering mutely at the crowd trampling what little grass was left of the neglected lawn of Number 6. The disparity between the derelict house's garden and that of the Dursley's, made the Dursley garden stand out all the more in contrast.

"Headmaster, hadn't you better step back out of the window before you're seen?" Molly asked of Albus. Both he and Severus had changed their looks so the Dursley's would not readily recognized them, but Albus was still arrayed in a flashy set of wizarding robes of sky blue with twinkling stars scattered all over them, and little glowing comets zooming around the hem chasing each other's tails.

"Not to worry my dear," Albus replied, not making any move to follow her advice as he continued to stare out the window. "I put up several charms so the muggles wouldn't notice our comings and goings while we used this property for our temporary headquarters. For all they know this is still an abandoned house."

"Oh that's a relief," she replied. "I should have known you would have done that first. I don't know what I was thinking of, even questioning it."

"You are just thinking of Harry, as we all are. He is on the top of all of our minds," Albus replied kindly. "Furthermore, you have every right to question me. I have failed in so many other ways lately, that I wouldn't put anything past me right now."

"Albus, it is just about noon and I don't think Hagrid can keep the wolf restrained any longer. Now that the rest of the Weasleys have arrived can we get on with this?" Severus interrupted what was destined to be another long remorse filled diatribe on the part of the headmaster.

"Ah, so we shall, so we shall. Quiet everyone, please!" Albus turned to face the room and raised his hands to get everyone's attention, as soon as the murmuring ceased he addressed the Order.

"As you all know we are here on a crucial mission, with many unknown variables. I am sure that needn't remind you that as such, we need to approach the situation cautiously. We will be going in two at a time and mixing with the muggles as much as possible. The Weasleys have kindly brought their younger children to help create any diversions we may need. In addition, Severus made an excellent suggestion that it might be prudent if we made them … ah … less noticeable."

"And just what are you proposing Albus?" Molly's eyes narrowed as she threw a glare at the Potions Master at the mere thought of anything happening to her children.

"Nothing dangerous or permanent, I assure you Molly. While you were judging the other gardens, we were planning an approach for the Dursleys. At Severus' suggestion, we all agreed that as long as were going in undercover, that perhaps it would be fun if we carried Arthur's suggestion a little bit further, and we all went as 'families'."

Severus snorted with contempt at this statement and ended in a coughing fit, but waved for the old wizard to proceed. That was NOT what he had suggested! Not even close!

"Aberforth will be escorting Minerva, Dedalus will go in with Emmeline, Sturgis with Hestia, Elphias with Arabella, and you with Arthur of course."

"Of course." Molly agreed.

"And then I thought we might … ah … spread the children about too. With a simple glammor spell to alter their looks temporarily, so we can have more … ah … 'families'. Bill volunteered to go with Kingsley, and Charlie with Alastor. So children …" Albus turned to address the five youngest Weasleys and smiled. "… we would like to pair each of you up with one of the other men, and have you 'pretend' to be their child for the day. Will you do that for us?"

"Are we are to act_ just_ as we would, if he was our _real_ parent?" one of the twins asked thoughtfully.

"Precisely, Mr. Weasley - families," the Headmaster nodded approvingly. "So tell me … which of would like to be Professor's Snapes child for a day? Hm?"

The twins grinned evilly as they both stepped forward to volunteer. "We will!"

"Can we have the nose too? Won't look much like the Professor without the nose!"

"Yeah! We gotta have the nose!"

At Albus' chuckle of agreement, Severus grimaced and turned his back on the whole sordid proceedings. He should have known his simple suggestion would come back to bite him. This would be the last time he would endeavour to participate in a group activity, he swore to himself. The old wizard always had a way of putting his own interpretation on anything he said and it was never to his advantage. Albus waved his wand and turned the twin's bright red locks into a deep auburn, and their brown eyes to hazel, to match Severus' disguise.

"Hey Dad!" they called out running up to the Potions Master, and standing on either side they tugged on his sleeves, like six year olds trying to get attention. "Can we have a raise in our allowance?"

"No. You. May. Not." Snape said succinctly, and with a wave of his own wand as he turned to leave, changed his black wizard attire into a smart pair of muggle slacks with a button-down shirt and a casual tweed jacket, but still managed to leave the impression of billowing robes as he swept out the door followed by his two new 'sons'.

"Then can we borrow the broom? Huh Dad? Huh?" One twin could be heard asking as the other twin just kept inquiring 'are we there yet Dad?'

Both exasperating comments were met with a loud "ten points from Gryffindor" from the irritated Potions Master, as he grated his teeth at the maddening pair. They were worse that a plague of gnats.

Damn that Albus!

As the trio melted into the waiting crowd, Ron's own red hair was changed to a light brown, and eyes to pale blue, before he went to stand next to his 'Dad' Remus.

"Let's go Dad. I am hoping they have sandwiches or at least cake! I'm starved!" Ron said putting his hand in Remus'.

Remus' heart skipped a beat at the word 'dad' and the feel of young boy's hand in his. Soon it would be Harry's hand he vowed as he pulled Ron out the door.

Percy looked from Albus to Hagrid to Dung. Everyone else had been paired up and left for the garden, except for him and Ginny. The future politician in him made him step forward and quickly volunteer to be Albus Jr. for the day. Thinking perhaps he could even find the time to bend the Headmaster's ear to obtain some tips on being the best Prefect Hogwarts had ever seen. His dream was to be so good, that they would have to create a special award just for him.

Since the twins had teamed up together on Snape, that left Hagrid and Mundungus without a 'child for the day'. Ginny was left to choose. As the small girl started to tentatively hold out her hand to make her choice between the two men, Molly stepped forward.

"You'll be staying with your father and me," she said, seeing the doubt on her daughter's face.

"No Mum … you and Dad have a job to do. You need to judge the competition. I'll be all right with either of them. After all, they are your friends, aren't they?"

"Right you are," Molly sighed. It wasn't that she didn't trust Hagrid or Dung, well she did trust Hagrid, but this her baby daughter they were talking about.

"Miss Ginevra, you look unsure. What is wrong?" Albus asked her kindly, bending down to Ginny's eye level.

Ginny leaned over and whispered in the old wizard's ear, causing him to chuckle and look at the two remaining men, both of whom looked embarrassed at causing distress to the little girl for having to pretend to be their daughter.

"She just doesn't want to hurt either of your feelings by choose between you. So she asked if she could have you both as her 'Dads' for the day," Albus said, putting both men's minds at ease. "I believe I can solve that dilemma for you Miss Ginevra," he said turning back to the little girl. "You see, I talked with Hagrid earlier, and we thought that because of his height, he might have a bit of an issue … ah … 'blending in' with the muggles. So he agreed to stay here at headquarters to keep a watch out for anyone else magical trying to enter the garden. It is a very important job too."

"That's right Miss. I'm going to be lookout." Hagrid spoke up. "Besides, I want to wait for Madame Pomfrey to come."

"So if you would like to go with Mr. Fletcher young lady, we will be all set then. Will that be all right with you?"

"Yes Sir."

As she took Mundungus' hand Albus turned her into a curly haired blue-eyed blonde. Ginny said was relieved that she didn't have to choose between them, ant not that Mr. Hagrid didn't look friendly, but he was awfully tall and Mr. Fletcher was more her size.

"Whatever you do, just don't lose her Mundungus." Molly said with trepidation as she saw her baby go out the door with the highly unreliable Dung. "Stay with Mr. Fletcher Ginny!"

"She's only on loan," Arthur yelled after the pair. "WE WANT HER BACK!"

Ginny just laughed and waved gaily over her shoulder and she and her new 'Dad' skipped down the walk toward Number 4.

Reaching the crowd in front of the Dursley's, Dung pulled Ginny along with him into their midst, towards the garden entrance, until someone jostled him and made him lose his grip. Turning around quickly to grab her hand again, he couldn't find her. Searching the crowd for her golden locks, Dung started to call out her name then realized that for the life of him he couldn't remember what it was.

"Uh … Cindy? Peggy? Jenny? Merlin girl! Where are you? Dang it! Arthur and Molly will kill me if they find out I lost her this quick!" Mundungus took one more look into the crowd, and opting for saving his skin from Weasley retribution, he ducked into the cover of a bush and apparated away.

Ginny in the meantime was panicking when she noticed that her new 'Dad' had lost her.

She clutched her ticket tightly as she was propelled by the surging mob past the table near the rose covered archway where Arabella and Elphias were still selling tickets to late comers, over the emerald green clipped lawn, past the colourful flower beds, until the tide finally deposited her like driftwood at the step to the very tidy front porch of the very square two story brick house.

Breaking free of the crowd, Ginny hopped up and down as high as she could and looked around at the faces in the crowd but could not see Mr. Fletcher anywhere. Nor did she see anyone else she recognized - not any of the Order Member, or any of her brothers. Fighting down her panic, she was wishing now that her pretend Dad had been the very nice and VERY tall Mr. Hagrid. She was sure she would have been able to find him in the crowd.

Taking a deep breath, Ginny decided it wouldn't do any good to worry. Her parents had always told her that if she got lost, she was to just stay put and they would find her, wherever she was. Her Dad taught her it was important to stop the minute she realized she didn't know where she was, because it was harder to find someone who kept moving around. So Ginny sat down on the corner of the sunny bottom step and waited. Either Mr. Fletcher or her parents would come and find her, she was sure of it.

But it was kind of boring.

Just sitting there.

Really … really boring.

And hot.

Really … really hot.

And all she could see from her vantage point were legs and feet.

A lot of legs … and a lot of feet.

Looking into the large flowering rhododendron next to the step, Ginny could also see a tiny fairy peeking out from under a long leathery leaf. The little being stuck its tiny tongue out, making Ginny laugh, before flicking back in the bushy depths. Quickly glancing to the right and to the left, and still not seeing Mr. Fletcher or any of the other Order Members in the crowd of legs, Ginny ducked into the bush following the fairy. A couple of minutes wouldn't matter she thought, and she had always wanted to find a fairy's castle! Maybe there was one in this garden. It was certainly beautiful enough to have a fairy queen and her entire court living in it.

It was cool in the shady depths of the bush, and there was a nice hollow space near the very centre just her size, but to Ginny's disappointment, the fairy had vanished. She was about to crawl back out when she heard a high pitched whinny like that of a horse. She hadn't seen any horses on her way into the garden. But that Professor Snape man had said something about a circus coming to town … maybe they had pony rides at Garden Fetes! Of course, they weren't as much fun as broomstick rides, but it would be something to do. However, the whinny turned into a human whine, and something in its tone made Ginny stay hidden.

"I tell you it's entirely his fault! He's made a mockery of me! He took my words and turned them around on purpose. I said I wanted it to be beautiful … not … not a SPECTACLE! It was supposed to be tidy, yet elegant. Not … not … this-THIS TRAVESTY OF NATURE!" The voice was verging on the edge of hysteria, and let out another high pitched frenzied laugh.

"Don't fret my dear. And get yourself under control! _People are watching!_ Everything will be all right. It will all be over in a few hours, and then I will take care of the matter. Now let us greet our guests," a deep throaty voice barked.

Ginny peered up through the dense leaves. There on the porch, standing stiffly like the goblin sentries who guard the doors at Gringotts stood a tall woman with blonde hair and a large heavyset red-faced moustached man with no neck. A muggle news and camera crew joined them and started interviewing them about the competition. In the camera's light, they both smiled sickly sweet smiles, and murmured saccharine words of welcome to the crowd. But their words didn't match their eyes. Their eyes were cold and mean.

At a question from one of the other reporters, the tall woman let out another whinny, and the red-faced man nervously rolled the end of his long bushy moustache between his beefy fingers.

Ginny caught her breath, and her heart started racing … a horse and a walrus! They _sounded _like a horse and a walrus. Christopher Robin said that two of the mean people he lived with in the dark abyss looked like a horse and a walrus, and if anyone looked like that, these two people did. Ginny crawled closer to the porch and looked closely at the house.

It was two stories … that must mean they have stairs. Christopher Robin said he slept in a cupboard under the stairs! The only other clue she had was the colour of the door. She had been almost positive at first that Christopher Robin lived in one of the closets at the Burrow as he said he lived behind a green door, and the door to the Burrow was green - a bright friendly happy green that made her smile whenever she saw it. But no one at the Burrow looked like a horse or a walrus, and the twins had helped her search every possible closet space, and they had found nothing. But maybe …

Ginny looked past the tall horse-faced woman and the large walrus looking man and her face fell.

The front door wasn't green …

… it was brown.

… stupid

… ordinary

… and very normal

… brown.

What's more, it wasn't even a particularly nice shade of brown. It was the ugly colour of squashed worms.

Well that wasn't right at all!

"Buggers!"


	41. I've learned my lesson well

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, retyped and reposted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Language, and refers to extreme child abuse of a sexual nature. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

- - - **WARNING – ANOTHER STORY PLOT SPOILER AHEAD - - -**

I believe I told everyone already, but in case I missed talking with you, the Garden Party is in five parts. This is not the part you are waiting for. Part three and four are quite fun, but part five is the one you really want. I apologize that both my plot and my writing are slow as molasses, however this is the last really sad part and again - it needs to be here in the timeline. So like before, I will give you a quick summary for those of you I am distressing so that you can skip reading this part entirely: This is when Harry hits rock bottom and gives up. He does not know his friends from the Woods are as close as what they are, or that anyone is ever coming to rescue him. He also believes he just lost the only 'real person' friend he had ever had, and that he has no hope now of ever having another. I am most remorseful that I could not skip it altogether for those of you who would like me to go right to the escape, but later on, I think you will understand why I couldn't. It has hidden plot clues that need to be where they are now to make what happens later make sense when I get to it. More bushes I needed to pound into toothpicks before I can kick them aside and get past them. Sorry again to all for whom this will annoy and frustrate endlessly.

**- - - END OF SPOILER - - - **

Timeline: Saturday just before noon, August 3rd, 1991 when the party starts.

**Chapter 41 – I went to a Garden Party  
Part Two: I've learned my lesson well**

When the mantle clock chimed a quarter to twelve, Boy was still heavily asleep dreaming of the Hundred Acre Wood, blissfully unaware of what The Family was doing right outside his little cupboard. In the foyer Vernon straightened his time, while Petunia primped in front of the mirror for the umpteenth time. Impatient, Vernon called it enough and took Petunia's arm to escort her out to the front porch to greet her adoring public. Petunia smiled as she anticipated receiving her just reward, and gather accolades for her gardening and culinary prowess. People just didn't understand how stressful her life was, and this was her one moment to really shine. She felt she truly deserved it after everything she had to put up with every day.

Stepping out onto the front porch, the Dursleys were immediately assailed with flashing bulbs from the photographers crowded at the gate waiting to get in. Aghast, Vernon and Petunia looked around at the garden to see why it was generating so much interest.

It was a farce! It was a sham! It had to be … _FAKE_!

Here it was August, and the cherry tree in the corner was crowded with plump ripe cherries. _BUT HOW!_ The cherries had been ripe in June. They had already made Boy pick and preserve the fruit. Yesterday the tree only had green leaves on its boughs. Now, not only were its leaves boasting a rich autumn gold, but its limbs were once again heavily laden with deep red fruit, only this time being crowded out by the pearly white flowers of a full springtime bloom, the petals of which were raining down like snow in the gentle summer breeze. It was as if all four seasons were competing to show off at the same time. And that was just ONE tree! The ENTIRE garden was like that!

'_WHAT HAS THE LITTLE FREAK DONE?'_

Petunia ran screaming back into the house.

**SLAM!**

The front door crashed closed behind her as she started to kick the cupboard door in her fury. _'IF THAT DAMN BRAT HAS MADE ME LOSE THE COMPETITION, HE'S GOING TO PAY FOR IT! AND PAY DEARLY!' _

**BANG! BANG! BANG!**

Boy was having the most wonderful time in the Hundred Acre Wood with Roo and Tigger. After having taken the medicines, he had lain down on the floor of his cupboard and slept deeply. The combination of concoctions had knocked him out cold for at least two solid hours, maybe more. In his dark cupboard, he couldn't really tell as he had no idea what time it was. However, Miss Tonks was right again, the medicines seemed to have worked a miracle!

He bent his wrist and wiggled all the fingers. They all worked again! He could even twist this way and that without his ribs screaming in agony, and he took the first really deep breath he had taken in years. He still had all his bruises, cuts, and welts on the outside, but on the inside, he felt wonderful! Just like Roo, he felt as if he could run like the wind. And just like Tigger, he felt he could jump sky high!

'_It's all right now. I know it's been bad, but I'm on my way, just hold on a little while longer.'_

'_Kanga?' _

Boy roused sleepily, the drugs making everything seem to be happening in slow motion. It took a few minutes before he realize that he was no longer in the bright cheerful woods next to the cool waters of the lazy river with Roo and Tigger, and Kanga was nowhere to be seen. It was dark, hot, and stuffy - he was back in the dark abyss. Back in his tiny cramped cupboard under the stairs, and something had woken him. When he shook his head to clear his sleepy confusion, his chain clinked. He thought he had heard Kanga say she was coming to get him.

'_Just wishful thinking again_,' he supposed disappointedly, when he realized it was just Ma'am, banging on his cupboard door that had woken him out of his dream. He tried hard to go back to the dream, because for a moment, Kanga being so close by had actually felt real. He remembered that in his dream, caught up by Roo and Tigger's enthusiasm, he had rashly promised them that he would think about trying to go to Hogwarts. But awake he knew that the chance of that possibility actually happening was slim to none. He had tried many times to escape to the Hundred Acre Wood and stay there, but he had never been successful very often, or for very long. The dark abyss would always eventually pull him back in. Hogwarts would be the same. He wouldn't be able to get there either. Not without help, and who would help him? No one.

It was at times like this that he really regretted murdering his parents when he was a baby. From observing The Family over the years, he deduced that was what parents did - they helped their children. Only since he had short-sightedly done away with his own, he had no one now to help him as Cousin did. He knew his parents had felt it was a mistake he was even born, but maybe if he hadn't killed them, they might have eventually come to at least tolerate him.

He used to fantasize that a lot about his parents - that they had loved and wanted him. And he would dream about what his life might have been like if they had still been alive. They would have lived in a little cottage somewhere far away. He knew that since he was a hideous freak he would still have to be hidden away, but since in his fantasy his parents loved him they would have given him a cupboard that was maybe a little larger, maybe even large enough to hold a small mattress to sleep on. Sometimes he even went as far as to fantasize that his mother also gave him a pillow and a warm blanket, and that his father might tuck him in and read to him from his story book. He also fantasized that maybe they would allow him to eat breakfast with them from time to time, at the table and not just on the floor at their feet, and that they might have even allowed him to go to school.

Boy knew it was greedy to think this way, but after all, it was his fantasy and even a freak can dream can't he? However, with every passing year, the fantasy got harder and harder to imagine. Especially when Master told him that Dumbledore still would have made him a slave because that was all he was good for. He would have just been his parent's slave instead, and since they hadn't wanted him and thought him disgusting, they would have sold him to Master anyway.

Oh well, he sighed, it was true. Master was right. He would have been the same place he was now - Master's slave, alone and unloved, whether his real parents had lived or not. However, by being so kind, Miss Tonks had got him thinking again about his fantasy parents, the ones that loved him and sent him warm hugs on sunbeams, and left wonderful presents like glasses for him to find. It was far too late for maybes and might-haves, but he rationalized that was probably why he was thinking so hard about Kanga actually coming here for him.

Kanga was the closest thing to a maternal figure, as he had ever known. She was always so full of advice, confident of what she thought him capable of, and optimistic about his future possibilities. Just like Ma'am was for Cousin. Only Kanga was kind and gentle too, with warm and loving eyes, instead of hard and cold ones like Ma'am. He really envied his little friend Roo for having a mother like Kanga, for Kanga was everything that he thought a loving mother would be, if he had one.

Unfortunately, as optimistic as his friends from the Hundred Acre Woods were, since he had never told them the awful truth about being a slave, they just didn't understand his situation. He would never be able to leave without Master's permission, and he wasn't allowed to ask for it. However, he knew that even if he could ask for permission, Master wouldn't give it. He was Master's property and Master never willing gave up anything that belonged to him. Even if he was just a burden, to Master it was the principle of the thing.

Boy was well aware that he existed only for Master to use until Master was done with him, and then it was Master's decision of how best to dispose of him. He didn't even have a choice in that. Master had a rule against him purposely damaging any of Master's property, and since that was what he was … property … that included himself. The rule effectively banned suicide or he would have tried that way out long ago. No, his woodland friends just didn't understand how the hopefulness he always felt after being with them, always quickly faded whenever he returned to his reality in the dark abyss. As much as he liked to dream about it, he knew that his friends from the woods would never be able to reach him here. Even if they could, his friends were small and soft and friendly, and Master was big and hard and mean. They would be no match for him, even if they all ganged up on him together, although the thought was rather entertaining.

He could just picture Roo and Kanga hopping up and down taking turns punching Master in the nose, just like in the glimpses he had stolen of Cousin's Saturday morning cartoon programmes. Tigger and the Woozle and Wizzle would be keeping Master too dizzy to punch back, by running in circles around him as fast as they could go, wrapping him like a mummy with the spellotape from Miss Tonks' little cloth bag. In the meantime, Pooh would be helping the rescue efforts by ransacking Ma'am's cupboards. Her spotless kitchen would look as if a whirlwind had gone through, as Pooh hunted for hunny to keep the woodland's army energy levels at their peak. All the while Piglet would keep Ma'am at bay by sweeping her into the corner with his broom. Owl and Eeyore would be lending their sage advice to Gopher on how best to blow the lock off the door to the cupboard under the stairs with his dynamite … six maybe seven sticks … no, eight I think … with Rabbit directing the whole caper from the stairs above where he would have the best view of everything.

It was VERY entertaining to think about, and as Boy mulled the scene over in his mind it brought a wry smile to his lips. However, it was best that they didn't ever try to come for him. He didn't want to be responsible for them being hurt too. He'd already done enough damage in that area with Mercury and Miss Tonks. The reality was that they were never coming and he was never leaving. The small smile disappeared off his face and he swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that threatened at the thought.

**BANG! BANG! BANG!**

"BOY! REMEMBER WHAT I SAID? ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS TO BE GOOD FOR ONE MORE EFFING DAY AND YOU COULDN'T EVEN MANAGE THAT. ALL YOU'VE DONE THIS MORNING IS CAUSE TROUBLE!" Ma'am's voice screeched at him through the door at an ever increasing pitch.

Boy roused the rest of the way out of his sleepiness, but his confusion didn't lessen. All he knew was that he had thought wrong. It wasn't Kanga. It was just Ma'am and she sound VERY unhappy. He really didn't know what he had done to ruin everything this time, but from Ma'am's tone of voice it must have been something VERY bad.

He thought back rapidly over all the things he had made for the buffet table and could not find any mistake there. However, he thought that the roast dinner he had made three nights ago had been quite splendid too, and the guests hadn't enjoyed it. To be sure, this time he had made _all _of his finest pastries and appetizers. He was positive he hadn't left anything out. Surely, there was something there to appease even the most finicky of Ma'am's guests. Cousin was quite content with the spread anyway, and that was Boy's normal gage of how well he had done. If Cousin was happy with the amount of food, than usually so was Ma'am. Then he thought about how the Garden looked. Thanks to Miss Tonks and all those little flitting lights, the garden chores had all been completed on time, and the garden was looking the loveliest it had ever been. Ma'am was sure to win her coveted prize for all her hard work. She should be happy.

But she obviously was not.

Not in the least.

**BANG! **

"I WON'T STAND FOR IT! DO YOU HEAR ME? VERNON CAN DO ANYTHING HE LIKES WITH YOU AFTER THE FETE IS OVER, I DON'T CARE ANYMORE. YOU'VE RUINED EVERYTHING!" Ma'am screeched kicking the door one more time for good measure.

'_Ma'am had cared before?'_ This was news to Boy, he hadn't realized that Ma'am had ever really cared, one way or the other, what Master had done to him, and many times, she had even helped Master. Therefore, he hadn't really expected her to keep her promise to make sure nothing happened to him if he behaved himself. The only promises Ma'am had ever made to him that she _had_ kept, were the ones promising to punish him, or to have Master do it. Those promises she never forgot.

Besides, what could Ma'am do about it anyway, even if she had wanted to? Ma'am wasn't as big as Master, she was as skinny as he was wide. She wouldn't be able to stop him. Master would do whatever Master wanted to do, as always. Boy had no doubt about that, after all Master was the largest person alive, at least the largest that Boy had ever seen. He couldn't imagine there possibly being anyone taller, larger, stronger, or more frightening than Master, except for maybe Dumbledore.

Come to think of it, Dumbledore probably was taller, larger, and stronger than Master. Dumbledore was definitely more frightening than Master, since it was he that told Master to do all those horrible things to him, and then left him there to be a slave. He really hoped that if Master sold him, that it wasn't to Dumbledore.

"AND QUIT MAKING NOISE!"

As silently as possible, Boy gathered up the slack in the chain that was still attached to his collar. It had inadvertently made a small clinking sound when he had shifted positions as he woke up. As it was the only sound he had made for the last several hours, it must have been what had offended Ma'am this time and set off her current torrent of screaming. It wasn't his fault he was still chained, even though Master said it was.

Boy could hear Master's heavy footfalls join her irritated tapping ones in the hallway. Then he could hear Master start to fumble with the padlock on his door as a third set of footsteps stomped down the hallway.

"Popkins! What are you doing in here? Why don't you go back and greet the guests," Ma'am's sharp voice suddenly turned all soft and sugary.

"But Muuuuummmm! It's hot and I'm borrrrrred! My friends aren't here yet, there's just a bunch of old people!" came the whinging voice of Cousin.

"Listen to your Mum and run along Dudders, this isn't for your tender ears," Master growled over his shoulder and went back to opening the lock as Cousin's footsteps could be heard stomping across the floor right before the door slammed again.

This is not good. Not at all!

Curling into a ball, he pressed his tender back against the wall and wedged himself as far away from the door and as far under the lowest step as he could possibly get, and thought about what Ma'am had said. It wasn't fair. He was trying his very best to be a good slave and follow all the rules. This time he truly couldn't think of anything he had done wrong. Master had already punished him for what happened at breakfast and for Miss being stuck upstairs even though he had no idea what was causing it. Since then, he had been locked in his cupboard. He couldn't have done anything else bad, and the collar agreed with him, but Ma'am was furious anyway. While Ma'am being furious was worrisome to Boy, he knew from experience that if you take the amount of Ma'am's fury and multiply it by ten, you would only just be approaching the level of fury he would feel from Master during his next 'lesson'.

As Master wrenched open his little door, boy huddled as far away from the door and as far under the bottom stair as he could possibly get, blinking against the sudden flood of light from the hall. Raising his hand to shield his eyes against the glare, he gasped as his slight movement caused one of the little empty glass potion vials to roll out into the hallway - the glass tinkling slightly as it came to rest against Master's steel toed boots.

"What's this?" Master roared as he snatched up the vial and glared at the label. "Skele-gro? What kind of freak nonsense is this, and where did you get it?"

"Med-medicine Master …" Boy started to respond before Master thankfully cut him off before he was forced to disclose the existence of the little cloth bag as well.

"HOW DARE YOU TAKE MEDICINE? I never said you could take medicine Boy! Slaves do not deserve _medicine_ of any kind, even FREAK medicine." Master sneered scornfully as he dropped the vial, causing it to shatter as it hit the hardwood floor of the hallway. "You deserved every bruise, every welt, every broken bone, and every scar I ever gave you. They are there to remind you of your lessons. You are just negating all my efforts to teach you to behave properly if you just take medicine to get rid of them. You are overstepping your bounds again. Remember that slave … NO. MEDICINE."

"Yes Master," Boy acknowledged, thinking sadly of Miss Tonks' cool and creamy lotions and pastes that he hadn't yet had time to try on his aching cuts, welts, and bruises.

"Now, what I came to say is that it has come to my attention that you have purposely ruined Petunia's garden and sabotaged her efforts in the competition. I am not pleased with you in the least. You have been a very disobedient slave. You have obviously NOT learned your lesson as you claimed." Master's voice was dangerously low and calm. "However, since the Fete is just starting I do not have time to deal with you at the moment. I will leave you to speculate as to what your punishment will be. All I will say is it won't be pleasant … for you … that is." Master said shutting the door firmly and after bolting it, he snapped a lock on the hasp.

At this throaty promise, Petunia turned on her heels and stalked out the front door, slamming it behind her as she left again. Taking both the key to the chain and the one to the hasp, off the little hidden hook, Vernon tucked them in his vest pocket and patted it down with a pleased look.

'_Can't be too careful today, lots of strangers about. Don't want my little slave getting any more foolish ideas before I am finished with him. I'll have my fun and then Fudge can have anything that's left over. I don't care what he said, he's so hot for the little freak - he'll take him in any condition. I know it, and so does he. Damaged goods or not. You can't fool Vernon Dursley. I'm too smart for that.'_

"Now don't you worry my little whore, I won't leave you to wonder about it for too long, I assure you. I'll be back soon," he promised Boy, then giving the little cupboard door one last lingering look he joined his infuriated wife on the porch, closing the front door securely behind him. Turning around, his smile immediately twisted into a frown as Petunia started verbally attacking him in a low hiss, poking a long sharpened painted nail into his chest.

"You're _'not pleased'_ Vernon?_ NOT PLEASED! _Is that all you have to say? When your sister is merely stuck upstairs for a few minutes you thrash on him like there's no tomorrow and leave me to clean up after. But when he _COMPLETELY RUINS ALL MY HARD WORK YOU'RE JUST - __**NOT PLEASED**__? He hates me! He did this on purpose! I know it! And you're just 'not pleased'? Don't you know how hard I've worked?" _ Petunia wailed hysterically as her voice grew steadily louder as noon arrived and people started pouring through the front gate.

"Come, come, my Pet. It's not all _that _bad. And keep your voice down," Vernon said trying to be jovial and sending a weak smile towards the press who were trying to catch a few words of what the pair responsible for the spectacular garden entry were saying. "I do know how hard you have worked on the garden. Keeping the little freak focused on his tasks is not an easy job, and you are to be commended. But as you said yourself, it is time for the Fete and we must put on our happy faces now, mustn't we?"

"I tell you it's entirely his fault! He's made a mockery of me! He took my words and turned them around on purpose. I said I wanted it to be beautiful … not … not a SPECTACLE! It was supposed to be tidy, yet elegant. Not … not … this-THIS TRAVESTY OF NATURE!" Petunia broke into hysterical laughter again.

"Don't fret my dear. And get yourself under control! _People are watching!"_ Vernon barked shaking her by the shoulders. "Everything will be all right. It will all be over in a few hours, and then I will take care of the matter. Now let us greet our guests," he said as the wave of reporters surged up the steps.

"Mrs. Dursley! Can you tell us … when did you first notice that your garden was infested with a pernicious variety of Umgubular Slashkilters?"

"WHAT?" Petunia said letting out a high pitched nervous laugh.

"Sir, are you barking mad! What journal are you with?" Vernon demanded suspiciously of the odd looking reporter as he puffed up his chest and nervously rolled the end of his moustache.

Huddled in the cupboard under the stairs, Boy knew that this time he had done the unforgiveable. Ma'am was NOT pleased with the garden, and in turn, Master was NOT pleased with him.

Even if he had not directly been the one to finish readying the garden for the Fete, it was his responsibility to ensure that Ma'am won the prize. Therefore the result was the same. He was the one who had let Miss Tonks in. And Ma'am did not like what Miss Tonks had done to it. Now Boy would have to pay for that mistake. He knew from Master and Ma'am's tone of voice, that he had no more chances. He was the 'matter' that Master was going to take care of. And he knew what that meant. Master wasn't going to stop at a whipping next time, and after Master was done using him, he would send him to prison or sell him to Dumbledore.

Boy only had one last hope.

Prying up the loose floorboard, he took out the tattered storybook and the raggedy blanket and hugged them to his chest. Maybe this time it would work. Thanks to the medicines in Miss Tonks little cloth bag, this was the first time he could remember not being in pain from broken bones, the first time he could remember not feeling so weary that he was about to pass out from sickness and hunger. Maybe this time he would have enough strength. If magic were real, then maybe this time his wish would come true.

Miss Tonks said all she did was to visualize being in the other place, and she would be there. If he really was magic, as Kanga said, then maybe he could do it too, if he tried hard enough. And he had promised Roo and Tigger that he would at least try. If he applied Miss Tonks' convoluted logic to interpret the rules, and then threw in a healthy dose of Piglet's analysis of 'depends' - he reasoned that in a way he did 'sort of' have Master's unspoken permission to try. Now all he had to do was apply Gopher's wisdom to the equation.

Gopher had said that for every force you need an equal and opposite force to counteract it to keep all the stress in balance. So it stood to reason that if he wanted to tip the balance in his favour he needed to be just a little bit stronger than the force keeping him here. The force that had put him here to begin with was Dumbledore, so he just needed to be more forceful in his wishing to be free, than Dumbledore had been in making him a slave. He tried to visualize himself in the Woods, safe and sound, with all his friends around him. Then he scrunched up his eyes, and wished with all his heart and soul, and then some. He wished to make Master happy - by no longer being in his house and breathing his air. He wished to make Ma'am happy - by no longer being a burden and blight on her family. He wished his friends would find him. He wished he were in the Hundred Acre Wood, or Hogwarts, or anywhere but here. He wished with all his might to just disappear.

Was the air starting to change around him? He could feel a slight tingling sensation on his skin as if the air around him were liquid and alive. He held his breath. Maybe this time it was happening, maybe all he needed was a bit more help. Desperately, Boy called out in his mind.

'_Kanga? Are you there? Please! Anybody? Gopher? Eeyore? Owl? Please help! Please help me! Pooh? Roo? Piglet? Please help me!' _ Boy concentrated hard on his friends, and he could almost hear them calling back to him that they were coming.

'_Rabbit? Tigger?' _Boy tried to picture them in his mind and imagine standing next to them in the woods. The air started to stir around him, but then settled without hardly disturbing the dust. Trying a second time, he scrunched his eyes tighter and wished harder. He could almost feel their presence but his friends had started to blur together. They all seemed different somehow, as if they were all mixed up. Piglet was tall and not pink at all, and Tigger's nose was all wrong for Tigger, and none of the others looked entirely right either, as if they were out of focus.

He was about out of energy but remembered Gopher saying once that the 'third time was the charm', so he tried one last time and put everything he possibly could into it. He had never wished so hard in his life. Once again his woodland friend started to take shape. Boy tried to go to them in his mind, but they looked so strange that he couldn't quite grab onto them. Then he felt himself next to Roo in a place that seemed quite familiar. Roo seemed to be hiding. However, as he started to reach out and touch her arm to let her know he was there, he felt himself slipping away. He was losing her! Then it was as if he were on fire only extremely cold at the same time. As the cold became a crushing force, a blinding pain shot through his forehead, enveloping the vision of his friends in the flash of green light from his nightmares. A man's shout, a woman's terrified scream, and a long evil laugh echoed through his mind as the dark abyss abruptly pulled him back again.

**THUMP! CLUNK! BANG! **

"VERNON! PETUNIA! DUDLEY! WHERE IS EVERYONE! DID YOU FORGET I AM STILL STUCK UP HERE! I'M HUNGRY! RIPPER! GET BACK UP HERE!" Miss shouted down the stairs.

"I'LL GET TO YOU MARGE! JUST SHUT IT FOR NOW! I HAVE IMPORTANT BUSINESS TO TAKE CARE OF FIRST." Master stuck his head back in the house and shouted at her in reply.

"VERNON! HOW DARE YOU TELL ME TO SHUT IT! AND WHAT COULD BE MORE IMPORTANT THAN ME?" Miss fussed, stomping her feet and making the entire staircase shake, causing the dust to rain down on Boy like flour through a sifter.

"DON'T FRET MARGE, JUST LET ME FINISH UP HERE, AND THEN AS SOON AS I'VE TAKEN CARE OF THE PROBLEM ONCE AND FOR ALL, YOU'LL BE UNSTUCK." Master said firmly closing the door once again behind him.

Snapping out of his trance at the sound of Miss bellowing at the top of her lungs from the head of the stairs, Boy's last hope shattered as he saw disappointedly that he was still right where he started. He thought he was so close, and yet he hadn't moved a millimetre! All he had to show for his efforts was total exhaustion and a pounding headache. He had never felt so tired in his life. Magic wasn't real, at least not for him. He had given it everything he had, and it hadn't worked. He didn't know why he had even tried when he knew deep down inside that Master wouldn't have ever allowed him have anything as wonderful as Miss Tonks' type of magic.

'_I'm not crying. I'm not! It's just sweat stinging my eyes,'_ Boy sniffed, justifying his tears to the spiders lurking in the dark corners, as he wiped his sleeve across his eyes. _'But_ _Master IS wrong … I HAVE finally learned my lesson.'_

Boy curled into a ball at the sound of Master's angry voice from the front porch and cringing at his words.

'_I learned that no matter how well I behave or how hard I try, it will never be enough. I learned that no matter how much I want to be normal, all I'll ever be is a freak. I learned that no matter what I do, no one will ever love me. I learned that that no matter how good of a slave I am, all I will ever be is a worthless whore. I learned that no matter how much I want to disappear it won't happen. And I learned that it doesn't matter anymore.'_

Now that Miss Tonks knew his shameful truth, she wouldn't be coming back. That only left Hedwig on his side on this side of the abyss, and she wouldn't be able to fight Master. If she tried, she would end up as dead as Mercury. He couldn't let that happen, he would rather die first that to let Master hurt even one feather on her precious head.

His friends from the Hundred Acre Wood wouldn't be able to rescue him either. As much as he liked to pretend it could happen, they weren't really coming. Nobody was coming to help him. Nobody wanted him. Nobody cared. Nobody ever would.

Only his friends from the Woods, Hedwig, Miss Tonks, Dumbledore, and The Family even knew he existed. In addition, The Family, Dumbledore, and now even Miss Tonks, knew he deserved whatever Master was going to do. And what Master was going to do, was to kill him as soon as the Garden Fete was over. It was clear to Boy that was what Master meant when he told Miss that he would soon 'take care of the problem once and for all'. It would be as if he never existed, Master and Ma'am would finally be happy, he wouldn't be a burden on The Family any longer.

Now it was only a matter of how. Maybe Master would shoot him with his shotgun again. If he did, hopefully he would take better aim this time. Being shot hurt. Or maybe Master would drown him in the basement laundry sink as he had already practiced doing on several occasions. Boy thought he would prefer that to being shot, because if you didn't struggle against breathing in the water, then it didn't really hurt too much. He just prayed that Master would not send him to prison to die. Cousin's stories of how they killed people in prison, by peeling off your skin, or cutting you open and eating your intestines while they made you watch, were far worse than any of the ways that Master had ever promised to do it. Nevertheless, all the ways sounded very slow and very painful. Maybe he would get lucky and Master would be merciful. Maybe Master would just snap his neck like a twig as he had threatened to do before. That sounded quick and relatively painless.

Boy curled into a small ball, as he contemplated his fate. He had never been very lucky, and he doubted his luck would change now.

He wondered what it would be like to be dead. Ma'am had always told him that when he died he was going straight to hell. And Cousin said that he learned all about hell at Sunday school. From Cousin's description, it sounded the same as prison. The only difference Boy could see was that when you were sent to prison you were alive and when you were sent to hell, you were dead. Other than that, they could both be the same horrible place.

Even though Boy couldn't imagine anyplace more horrible than where he already was, Master had told him many times that he had it relatively 'easy' in their 'generous' care and that no one else would treat a slave as 'kindly' as The Family did. One thing he could regretfully say about Master was that Master had never lied to him. Unlike Ma'am, who seldom kept her promises to Boy, whenever Master said he was going to do something to Boy he did it. Master had always kept his promises. Therefore Boy had no reason whatsoever to doubt anything Master ever said. Besides, believing everything Master told him was one of Master's rules. He didn't have a choice.

In addition to taking everything else from Boy and giving him nothing to call his own, Master had even taken the small comfort Boy might have felt at dying away from him, so that he truly had nothing at all.

Master said that he owned Boy, body and soul. Even dead, he would still be a slave with no rights for the rest of eternity. Master said so. Master said he could reach him anywhere through the collar, and that only Master could ever take it off him, so he would never be able to escape punishment. Boy supposed that after he died, Master would just have his parents whip him instead. And since they would be none too happy with him for murdering them to begin with, he could only imagine that being whipped and punished by them in the next life would hurt just as much, if not more so, than being whipped and punished by Master in this one. That was the thing that frightened Boy the most about dying - facing his dead parent's wrath. But he supposed he wouldn't have a choice in that either. What would happen would happen.

Boy knew he would be either dead or dying in prison, before the end of the next day. Master had told him several times now that on Sunday, he would cease to be a burden to The Family, so he knew it must be true. He had hoped that if he tried really hard to be a good slave that Master might relent, but now he knew that wouldn't happen. Master wasn't even going to bother with selling him now. He was just going to kill him, which to Boy, was rather a relief.

Lying there in his hot tiny little cupboard, Boy made his peace with dying. He welcomed it. Even if it meant confronting the parents who hated him in the next life. It would still be a relief to quit struggling to survive in this one. There had been so many times, especially in the last few days that he had felt so ill that wished to die, and it hadn't happened. And now that it was going to happen, it was ironic that thanks to Miss Tonks and her medicines, he was finally feeling almost well. He supposed that now he would never have the chance to return the little bag and thank her properly.

Resolutely he put the rest of the empty vials back in the little bag and stuffed it under the loose floorboard where at least Master wouldn't find it. He winced a bit as his back muscles moved and reopened a few of the raw wounds. It was just too bad he was not allowed to use any more of the medicines from it, he thought reluctantly as he slid the board back into place.

If he had known how to write, he would leave Miss Tonks a note. It would be the polite thing to do. But he didn't, so Boy did the only think he could think of doing. In the dim light from the crack under the door, with blood from the reopened wounds, he sketched a crude picture on the back of the stair in front of him.

First he drew the outline of an owl and added a stick figure of a person beside it. Then he added a halo over the figure's head to represent Miss Tonks, and added a circle to one stick hand to represent the little cloth bag, and a line to the other stick hand to represent her wand. After some considerable thought, he added smiles to both of the faces and drew a big heart around them. Then he drew a very small box to represent the cupboard and a line in it for the loose floorboard with a circle under it. Then with the tip of his finger, he left a trail of dots from the one circle to the other. Lastly, almost as an afterthought signature, he added a very small stick figure to the very small box with a zigzag mark on its forehead. He hoped if Miss Tonks ever saw it, that she would know what it all meant.

Tenderly retracing the outline of the owl, he stifled a small sob. He was going to miss Hedwig the most of all. She had never rejected him, and had stuck by him even at the risk of her own life. He idly wondered what the snowy owl would do, when he never came out of the house again. Would she fly away? Or would she wait in the hollow tree forever. He hoped not, he hoped she would fly - perhaps find Mercury if by chance he was still alive somewhere. His only regret was that he had no way to tell the owl goodbye, not even a crude picture.

Boy knew that after he died he wouldn't ever be able see his friends from the woods again either. He was going to miss them terribly and a little piece of him selfishly hoped that they would miss him too. But as they had each other, he knew they would be all right, they might not even notice he was gone. Though for a few moments, when he had been trying so hard to disappear, he actually felt that most of them were close by. It was odd, he had never felt them like that before, never in the dark abyss, but he was comforted by the feeling. Even if they were just imaginary, they were all he had. They were his real 'family' - more so than The Family had ever been. It was nice to imagine that they had come all this way to be with him at the end.

His arms and legs felt like lead, every muscle as though it was dissolving. His heart beat slowed haltingly to match the erratic pattern of his breathing, as he forced his uncooperative body to curl up on his raggedy blanket. With his tattered book pillowing his head, he thought fondly about each one of his friends. He loved them all, and he wished there was something he could do to let them know he was okay with what was going to happen, and to not worry about him anymore. Trying to disappear had sapped all his strength and he didn't feel up to trying to get back to the woods again to say goodbye. He only wished that they were really as close as they felt so he could see them one more time. That would have been nice.

Concentrating hard with the final remnant of his energy, he sent Kanga one last thought.

'_I'm sorry. Please don't be disappointed with me. I'm just too tired and I can't hold on any longer. But it's all right now … I've learned my lesson well.'_

As Boy's eyelashes fluttered shut against his deathly pale cheeks, the little spiders crept out of the nooks and crannies under the stairs. As part of the natural realm ruled over by Mother Nature, spiders have a magic of their own. Magic that enables them to defy gravity, and to weave what appears to be delicate strands seemingly out of thin air, but that in reality have a tensile strength greater than steel. As magical beings, they also have the ability to know another magical being when they see one. And Boy was one - one that was in desperate need of immediate help.

Normally spiders would not care about humans, magical or otherwise, but Boy was different. They had been watching him silently for years while he shared their living space. Where most humans wouldn't think twice of squashing them flat, Boy always let them live in peace and was careful to not disturb them if possible, or to break any of their webs or those of their brothers and sisters who lived in the garden. They felt safe in his presence.

In return for his consideration, the house spiders occasionally left a nice juicy fly for him in his water pitcher. But they were small spiders and few in number, the large humans in the house making sure of that. With so few of them, there was little they could do, fast enough to help. But they knew that the garden spiders felt as kindly towards Boy as they did.

As with all sentient societies, nature being no exception, the 'grapevine' sometimes has an unbridled power of its own. Within moments, the little house spiders' concern for their quickly failing roommate was transmitted from spider to spider, until a trail of eight-legged bodies wound their way in through small cracks in the foundation of the brick house and into the small cupboard under the stairs.

After some discussion, in the clicking language known only to spiders, they correctly diagnosed what the problem was with Boy. By trying to apparate while within exceedingly strong wards, designed to prevent that very thing, he had used up what little magical reserves he had left, and had drained his magical core to a dangerously low level.

He should have known better! The garden spiders had seen a similar thing happen to Boy just a few nights earlier in the garden, and they had witnessed how the spirit of the garden and the owls had worked to save him by infusing him with their own natural magic, when he had been on the brink of death. You would have thought Boy would have learned his lesson the first time around, and not have been so reckless with his magic again so soon! However, reckless human or not, the little spiders cared about the small gentle boy, and they would do what they could do to help. They could do no less, for they knew he would do the same for them.

The team of house and garden spiders set to work diligently crisscrossing in the air, performing a type of aerial waltz, weaving in and out, until together they had created a delicate web that stretched from one side of the cupboard to the other, and from front to back. As the spiders released the web from its quilting frame, it fell like gentle folds of silk to blanket the exhausted boy, who snuggled under it with a soft sigh as if he had been tucked in by a tender hand. The very faint, almost imperceptible, blue glow of the gossamer blanket was reflected in the multiple eyes of the anxious spiders as they waited and watched. Finally, to their collective relief, the boy's deathly pallor lessened and his laboured breathing grew light and even.

And he thought that no one cared? That no one would come? Had he not learned _anything_?

Foolish little wizard!


	42. You can't please everyone

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, typed and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Language and mention of extreme child abuse of a sexual nature. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Saturday noonish and beyond, August 3rd, 1991

**Chapter 42 – I went to a Garden Party**

**Part Three: You can't please everyone**

…_flap… flap… flap…_

Mercury concentrated on feel of the air currents under his wings as he pushed himself beyond his limits.

…_flap… flap… flap…_

It had been a long journey, on a barely healed wing, and he was just about at the end of his energy reserves.

…_flap… flap… flap…_

Only a few more beats.

_flap… flap…_

And he would be there.

_flap…_

There! Dead ahead! He could see the tall ash tree rising like a sentinel in the distance. He held his breath, gave his massive wings one last strong sweep, and entered a resting downward spiral glide on the warm summer thermals.

_Oh, it was glorious to be a bird!_

'_Hoooottt!' _

Landing lightly on a wide branch Mercury was simultaneously relieved and concerned at the state in which he found 'his companion' - the term by which he had started to refer to the pretty snowy owl in his thoughts as of late. He was relieved that she had apparently escaped the attack by the large human unscathed, but concerned by her fretful hunched over stance, and the multitude of feathers on the normally well-preened bird that were out of place.

'_Hoooottt?' _He questioned tenderly only to be taken aback by Hedwig's immediate and very vocal assault.

'_Just where the… Hoooottt… have you been! My owlet has been out of his mind with worry over you!' _Her delight at seeing Mercury alive and well was immediately replaced with an irrational irritation at seeing him _so_ alive and _so_ well when she had been _so_ worried.

'_Hoooottt… I'm just fine thank you… recovering nicely… and you?' _Mercury replied tacitly, giving Hedwig a haughty yet unperturbed amber-eyed stare_. 'Hoooottt…'_

'_Hoooottt… I'm sorry…'_

Hrumph! She didn't _seem_ all that sorry to him…

'_Hoooottt… are you all right? Hoooottt… I was… I was worried about you… too…'_

'_Hoooottt… you were?' Mercury was very pleased at the admission. He nestled in closer on the branch and preened a few of her feathers back into place. 'I'm… Hoooottt… fine. The large fat human shot my wing but I made it far enough to find help.'_

'_Help? Just for your wing? Hoooottt…'_

Well of course for my wing! Couldn't very well return to your rescue if I couldn't fly, could I? Mercury thought crossly to himself. He would have thought that rising back from the dead and making three extremely long journeys in as many days - two of them while injured - would impress a girl… but _this_ girl? …_noooooo… _

'_And… Hoooottt… for __**my**__ owlet too…' _ Mercury replied taking the possessive form. Two could play that game.

'_Hoooottt… I knew there was something I liked about you…' _Hedwig nuzzled his feathery chest with her beak.

Finally!

'_Hoooottt. Who's coming to help? I'm… Hoooottt… worried about my... __**our**__ owlet. The large fat human dragged him back into the square nest at dawn and I haven't… Hoooottt… seen him since, just a different young wizard carrying food out of the nest. And now… Hoooottt… there seems to be something going on.' _Hedwig observed waving a wing at the crowd gathering in front of the square nest but not entering the garden. _'At first I thought it was Death Eaters preparing to attack… but now I don't know… they all seem to be muggles… Hoooottt… but why are they here?… humans make very little sense sometimes… is this the help you brought? If so, I can't say much for it… they don't look like a very helpful lot… I think we need wizards!'_

'_Hoooottt… the Order of the Phoenix is coming… Hoooottt.' _ Mercury answered succinctly to her rambling halfway incoherent question.

'_Hoooottt! Oh good!' Hedwig perked up considerably. 'Did you have any trouble getting them to come? Hoooottt.'_

'_Hoooottt… yes. That's what took me so long. No one would listen until this pink haired witch showed up and finally got them to pay attention to me. I was about ready to give up and fly back on my own to see if you were still here. Hoooottt.'_

'_As if… Hoooottt… I would… Hoooottt… leave without our owlet! Never! Hoooottt! Never!' _Hedwig ruffled her feathers looking indignant.

'_Never… Hoooottt… imagined you would. I was just… Hoooottt… worried the large fat human… had shot you too.'_

If an owl could blush Hedwig was.

'_I think he would have liked too… Hoooottt… but I never gave him the chance… instead he just left poison bait everywhere. As if I would fall for that... it reeks. I like my meat fresh.'_

'_Hoooottt!… you must be hungry!'_

'_Hoooottt… No… the pink haired witch brought me an entire bag of owl treats.' _ Hedwig thought fondly of her benefactress. '_She came in handy in more ways than I thought she could… Hoooottt' _

'_If it hadn't been for her, I doubt they would have ever listened… Hoooottt… you would think in a large school like Hogwarts they would teach wizards how to converse in Owlish… it is a most eloquent language.'_

'_Hoooottt… you would think so…' _Hedwig bobbed her feathered head in agreement. _'But you say they DID finally listen? And they ARE coming? When are they going to get here? I am getting worried… Hoooottt.'_

'_There is one of them now… Hoooottt… right there with the two smaller wizards…'_ He indicated Severus Snape and the Weasley Twins. _'They think they are in disguise… Hoooottt, but you can't fool an owl like me! I'm not stupid. Hoooottt.'_

The members of the Order of the Phoenix were doing their best to mingle nonchalantly into the muggle crowd that was waiting on the sidewalk in front of Number 4 Privet Drive. Who would have thought that a neighbourhood garden show would generate this much interest? Certainly not one highly irritated Potions Master who at this moment was trying his best to ignore the two 'sons' Albus had foisted on him, and maintain a modicum of decorum in an otherwise untenable situation. Bah! Amateurs! That described the whole lot of them were… rank amateurs - bringing children along on a mission! The matter would have been better dealt with left to the only professional spy among them… namely himself.

Earlier through dusty attic window at Number 6, the highest vantage point he could find, Severus had gotten an ample view of the gardens at Number 4. He knew that 'Nancy Ann' had outdone herself a hundredfold. He supposed he should only be surprised that there were not even more reporters and more photographers here than what were already there. That fortuitous circumstance was probably only due to the fact that few reputable journals would put any credence in tips about 'nature going berserk', said tips being given as much credibility as tips about UFO's landing in the middle of Piccadilly Circus and the aliens disembarking to take tea with the queen. However, even one reporter and one photographer were one too many for Severus' liking. The fewer witnesses the better.

Severus would have suggested to the Order that they wait for the crowd to thin out, but he knew the antsy werewolf and equally antsy Molly Weasley would never go for it. He had already watched the wolf practically beat his own brains in, what little he had left, trying to get past the wards on his own. Then there was the matter of the Weasley matriarch… what could he say about Molly Weasley? Only that she was in prime mama-bear-defending-her-cubs mode. They were both too far past the point of listening to a saner voice of reason.

The twins, who were tugging at his sleeves from either side while asking him a question in stereo, rudely pulled Severus out of his observations. Too preoccupied with his own concerns to pay attention, Severus just shook his head 'NO' at whatever it was he was being asking. 'No' normally being the safe answer when dealing with any child. However, the Weasley twins were not just 'any child' and this time he got a vague uneasy feeling that he had just made a monumental mistake when he saw the boys' faces light up with glee as they took off into the crowd before he could revise his answer.

'_Merlin! What was it they asked?_' Severus started to follow the pair into the crowd, but stopped as he saw them run past the Headmaster and the twin's older brother Percy and then skim down the fence line, within millimetres of the magical boundary around the property, before bouncing off in an entirely different direction as if they were human pinballs. Whatever mischief they were brewing up, was forgotten as Severus savoured the pained look on Albus' face as Percy Weasley was obviously making the most of his 'Dad for the day' relationship to pump the old wizard for advice. Serves him right, Severus thought unashamedly.

Albus had hoped as well that they would have relatively few muggle witnesses to deal with for what they may have to do. Nevertheless, that fool's hope had disappeared like a puff of smoke hours ago. He had spent the majority of the time since, ensconced in Tonks' upstairs bedroom window at Number 6, studying the layout of the Dursley house and yard.

After much observation, he had concluded that it wasn't going to be as simple as Arabella would have them believe. He had cast a few diagnostic spells of his own design on the wards that surrounded the property and had noticed some slight nuances that Kingsley had missed. Not only did the wards keep out the magical population in general, unless invited in, they also seemed to be able to either bar or allow the entrance of selected individuals and groups. The ministry had most likely installed this precaution to ensure that Death Eaters would not be able to trick their way in past the unwary Dursleys, while at the same time not barring their own selves entrance whenever they desired.

Albus suspected that the recent altercation, between Mr. Vernon Dursley and one Miss Nymphadora Tonks, might have put these additional protections into play against the Order as well. During his monitoring session, he noticed the wards strengthen as various Order Members approached the boundary. Yet as he just observed the twins running by, perilously close to the boundary, there was no reaction from the wards to the children other than what Kingsley had originally expected for any magical person. Therefore, the wards must have been keyed into baring only the adults.

'_But on what basis?' he mused. 'There must be a common denominator.' _

Taking a quick glance around to locate the others, Albus was relieved to see young Ron a little way down the walk, practically climbing the fence with no ill effect. Remus holding firmly onto his hand making sure he stayed on this side of the boundary until it was safe to cross.

What a good idea Severus had! Giving Remus the responsibility of a youngster was just the thing to keep a level head on his shoulders. While Remus was normally a very gentle, kind, and unassuming man - given the right set of circumstances, such as the one facing him now, his uncontrollable animalistic side was apt to take over.

He could bear personal witness to this, Albus thought as he ruefully rubbed the finger shaped bruises now evident around his neck, although he really couldn't blame Remus for his reaction. Had their roles been reversed, he wasn't confident that a mere choking was all he would have done. Considering everything, Remus showed remarkable restraint not to use his wand to fling a few unforgivable curses his way.

Bringing his focus back to the matter at hand, Albus was relieved that if his theory held true, none of the children would be in harm's way, at least not from any unpleasant surprises from the wards. However, Albus was still concerned about the Order Members. It wouldn't do at all if one of them were to experience a repelling shock of the severe degree that he had watched Remus take several times in a row while he tried unsuccessfully to enter the garden early before the muggles had started to arrive.

He wished he could have stopped Remus from such a futile endeavour. It was not only hurtful to Remus' health, but it hurt Albus to know he was the root cause of it. However, all he could do was watch as Remus tried over and over, until he was too exhausted to try again. Nevertheless, as much as Albus did not like to see Remus punishing himself in that manner, it did serve a purpose. He could now surmise that where a werewolf, especially one pumped up on adrenaline, could take the shock without too much lasting harm, the same shock would put a normal wizard in the hospital wing before they could blink. He also observed that with each of Remus' tries, the shocks were progressively getting stronger, until he could feel the reverberations from the wards reactions all the way to upstairs at Number 6. Any stronger and the muggle geological engineers would be on their doorstep, investigating the area as an earthquake epicentre for a previously unknown fault line.

If the members of the order tried to get in there was no way the muggles would not notice _something_, and if they were going to rescue Harry, without ministry interference, they could not afford attracting the attention of witnesses, especially not muggles witnesses.

'_What to do? What to do? I must think…' _

"… so what do you think Headmaster?" Percy asked trying catch Dumbledore's wandering attention.

"Ah… what was that again my dear boy?"

"I was wondering if you had given any thought to the list of ideas about Prefect responsibilities I had sent you by owl post. It would really be best to put any changes into place before the term starts. Don't you agree? I could have my parents send myself and my brothers a week early so I can give them a trial run."

"Trial run?" the old wizard said distractedly.

"You know… test them out first so you would know the potential effect to the entire student body."

"Test what again?"

"The rules!" Percy exclaimed exasperated.

"Ah yes… the ten metre itemized parchment I received. Well, I am still giving that due consideration. Do you think in the meantime you could do me a favour… ah… son?"

"Anything 'Dad'! You name it!" Percy beamed, ready to curry favour.

"Hold your ticket to the Fete in your hand and go over there by the fence and stand by that lovely quince bush. It's the one with the coral coloured flowers. That's it. Now count to ten. Very good, now go and find Kingsley or Moody, oh… and whichever of your brothers is with whichever one you find, then bring them back here and have them do the same thing. That's it, that's a good boy… go on."

"Uh… sure…" Percy scowled, his pride deflating at the seemingly innocuous request. He did as he was requested, feeling like a stupid idiot when he couldn't tell Moody and Charlie the reason why he was dragging them into the thorny bush to count to ten.

"What's up Dumbledore?" Moody asked as the Headmaster approached them with a look of concern on his face.

"We have a small problem Alastor. Gather the rest of the Order, and let us convene back at Number 6 right now. People are starting to go in. Tell everyone it is imperative NOT enter the garden just yet. Quickly!"

"Yes Sir!" Alastor went in one direction while Charlie and Percy went in the other. Soon, almost everyone had returned to the front room of Number Six.

"Mum… can't this wait? I'm hungry, and I heard from a muggle kid that they have a fairly brilliant spread at this garden," Ron whined. He had just about queued up to the gate when Percy had dragged him away which was totally unfair as he could almost smell the chocolate biscuits.

"Ron… where's Remus? And where is your sister? Where's Ginny?" Molly asked looking around the group and not seeing the small newly blond curly head anywhere.

"Oh that right! Mr. Lupin said to pass along a message… _(ahem)_… and I quote: _'Tell that old bastard that my current plans do not include moving in any direction other than towards Number 4 Privet Drive and he bloody hell knows it.'… _Mum? Who's the old bastard?"

A small spattering of sniggers met that remark as Molly quickly changed the subject. "Er… never mind that Ron… and watch your language young man! Now where's your sister?"

"Hey! Don't yell at me! He told me to say it 'word-for-word'. I was just doing what good old Dad told me to. And I don't know where Ginny is," Ron added with a shrug. "She's supposed to be with Mr. Fletcher. Why don't you ask him?"

"Couldn't find him or Ginny anywhere." Charlie spoke up.

"I'm sure Dung is looking after her, not to worry Molly. But we do have a small problem to resolve quickly before we proceed with this mission."

"A problem?" Arthur said worriedly. "If there is any danger I want Ginny and the boys out of here immediately."

"Agreed!" Molly seconded.

"I am sure Ginny and the boys are not in any danger. After all, it is a party, a muggle one at that. Moreover, growing boys' do need to eat… so Ronald why don't you and your brothers run along and try out that 'brilliant spread' you heard about? Just save a lemon bar for me."

"That's right decent of you Headmaster!" Ron grinned as his stomach let out a loud growl.

"Okay boys, go ahead." Molly agreed, much against her better judgment. "But remember, without us there… Percy is in charge!"

"Yes Mum, we'll remember." Ron, George and Fred all chorused in unison as the four boys took off towards the garden gate, tickets in hand.

"And remember NO talking to the adult Dursleys! And be polite…!" Molly called last minute reminders after them.

"All right Albus. What's wrong now? Why did you stop us from getting Harry away from those awful muggles this time?" Minerva McGonagall said stiffly, her temper barely under control.

"Not 'stopped' Minerva, just momentarily delayed - in hopes of preventing anyone else joining Miss Tonks in the hospital wing."

"What are you on about Albus?" Aberforth asked his curiosity edged with contempt. His brother was always playing the I-know-something-you-don't-know card, and it was downright annoying.

"I've been observing Number 4 Privet Drive and noticed a peculiarity in the wards which may cause a small wrinkle in our plans. At young Percy's wise suggestion to 'give it a trial run and test it out first' I ran a quick test near the gate and my suspicions were confirmed."

"So spit it out! WHAT'S WRONG NOW!" Molly burst out. She was trying her best not to follow Remus' example of throttling the old wizard. However, if he kept this up…

"Ah yes… let me explain…"

"Then make it a _**short**_ explanation," Arthur demanded holding Molly back and trying not to lose his own patience, the faces of the others in the room mirrored his sentiment.

"Yes… yes… well as you may recall when Miss Tonks was telling us about her adventures…"

"**I SAID SHORT!**" Arthur cut in to reminded him, as Hagrid moved protectively nearby the Headmaster - just in case he was called on to restrain anyone.

"Very well… if you want it short - the tickets won't work."

Molly and Arthur gasped as they thought of her children heading directly for the powerful wards with no idea of the danger. As they moved to run after them, Minerva put up a hand to stop them.

"Now you're being a little_** too**_ short Albus." Minerva McGonagall interjected. "If they won't work, why did you send the children on ahead? I can't believe you would put them in danger, so you must have a reason for believing they wouldn't be harmed."

"Yes I do, thank you for that bit of trust Minerva. As I was starting to say earlier, you may recall when Miss Tonks was telling us about her adventures she mentioned coming to just as Vernon Dursley was saying something about Cornelius Fudge and it got me thinking…"

"Yes, yes. Getting too long again." Minerva prodded.

"Severus, you looked into her memories, can you tell us exactly what it was Dursley said at that point?"

Severus Snape wrinkled his brow in thought sorting thought the memories he had witnessed until he came up with the right one. "I believe it was something to the effect that she must be one of the 'do-gooder Aurors that Fudge had mentioned to him."

"And did he say anything else?"

Severus closed his eyes in concentration and thought a bit more. As the rest of the memory came to him, he opened his eyes wide and looked at Albus startled. "How did you know?"

"Just a hunch," Albus said quietly, ignoring the snort that his brother Aberforth let out at that demure response. "Why don't you tell the others what he said?"

"Dursley told her… 'Fudge said I had the right to refuse admittance to my property to any of your lot that I choose. And I so choose. You and the rest of your kind, the whole lot of you Aurors, are not welcome at Number 4 Privet Drive. Never set foot on my property again. Now, get out and stay out.' Then the oaf spat on her and left."

"As I thought," Albus said seriously. "I also noticed that the wards were programmable to specific circumstances, rules you might call them - keyed to specific individuals or groups. I am afraid that no matter what Arabella thinks about her tickets, Dursley's declaration is now part of the wards' protection. When I ran a small test earlier, the wards didn't seem to react to Percy when he got close holding a ticket, but when Alastor did the same they intensified. I do not believe that any of the Aurors will be able to enter the garden, with or without a ticket."

"Okay that takes Kingsley and Moody out of this mission. However, what about the rest of us? Why call us all back? What are you saying?" Sturgis Podmore queried.

"Yes, just what are you saying? Are you saying this mission is off?" Molly gasped. "Because, I'm with Remus on this one, there is no bloody way in hell I'm leaving without Harry!"

"I called everyone back because these are unknown wards we are dealing with. We don't know the true intricacies of the incantations used to establish them. I would rather be cautious than put anyone's life at risk needlessly. No one knows whom else Dursley may have banned. We should all test how they will react before trying to enter. That is _all_ I am saying."

"That sounds reasonable, doesn't it?" Arthur said to calm down Molly. "But are you sure the children will be okay? Should we test them too?"

"I tested Percy, and observed Ron and your twins near the wards. The wards did not react in any way other than expected so I foresee no issue with the boys entering."

"What about Ginny? She's not one of the boys… she's a girl." Molly started to ask but Albus had turned his back on the room and was staring out the window at Number 4.

"True there is that… but seeing as the crowd seems to have already entered and Mundungus and Miss Ginevra are no longer waiting on the sidewalk, I believe we may surmise they have both already passed through the wards safely. And following that assumption, we may also conclude that not all magical adults are banned."

"Thank the gods for that!" Molly said with relief. "Now can we get on with this testing? I have a son to rescue."

Approaching the rose covered arbour the group paused at the ticket table, where Arabella and Elphias had remained behind to man the last minute ticket sales. After quickly explaining the situation, Albus covertly tested each Order member, by having them stand near the gate with ticket in hand. As expected, the wards reacted defensively towards both Moody and Kingsley, barring them from entrance, as the Auror's Department currently employed both. What he didn't expect were when the wards reacted just as defensively towards Dedalus, Emmeline, Sturgis, Hestia, Elphias, Severus, Minerva and of all people… his brother Aberforth.

When searching for the common denominator, it seemed centred on having been an Auror at some time during their life. Whether current or past it didn't seem to matter. The wards seemed to think that once an Auror, always an Auror. Both Emmeline and Elphias had been Auror's of great repute during the first war. Sturgis reminded Albus that he had also served in that capacity for a short time many years earlier, Albus had written his recommendation for the position himself. While Hestia had started training in the Auror training program, she had dropped out within the first year, due to an unfortunate tendency to giggle during stressful moments when silence was imperative. Dedalus had only applied to be an Auror, but that didn't seem to matter to the wards. Intent seemed to count as much as deed. Which is why, while neither Severus nor Minerva had ever served as Aurors, they were both included in the ban as well. They had both taught several advance courses for the Auror training program at the Ministry's request. All in all, Albus could understand the reason behind each of them, but… Aberforth?

"Aberforth?" he questioned as blue eyes met blue.

Aberforth shrugged. "You haven't exactly kept up on my life big brother, and I have been known to breathe without asking your permission," was all he would divulge.

"Very well, that narrows our forces down more than I anticipated," he sighed. "Leaving only Mundungus and Remus, both of whom I presume are already at the Fete, the Weasleys, Arabella and myself."

"I'm sorry that my idea wasn't so ideal after all," Arabella apologized regretfully to the group. "And before you ask - the tickets aren't refundable."

"A refund is the furthest thing from our mind I can assure you dear lady. But out of curiosity, may I inquire as to why?"

"Petunia is the President of the Garden Club and she is the most tight-fisted muggle you will ever meet. It's her rule. _'No refunds. No exchanges.' _I have to turn in the receipts and account for every penny or it will be my head. And Petunia is not someone you want to tangle with."

"No refunds whatsoever? For any reason?" Albus asked his eyes calculating.

"No, none. It's her policy."

"I see," Albus remarked filing the information away for future reference. Then addressing the Order he said, "I don't want to overwhelm the Dursleys needlessly, or tip our hat to the Ministry, so perhaps this has worked out for the best. As such, I see no need for the rest of you to remain here."

"But what if someone from the Ministry shows up? Shouldn't we stay and keep watch?" Emmeline asked.

"Hagrid has agreed to guard the perimeter and send out an alert should any unwanted visitors arrive."

"If we leave, you _will _let us know what happens this time, won't you dear brother?" Aberforth asked suspiciously.

"Of course. As I said before… no secrets, everything out in the open."

"I'm holding you to that. We'll be at the Hog's Head waiting. C'mon everyone. Drinks on the house."

As the rest of the Order left for Arabella's to floo back to Hogsmeade, the Weasleys and Arabella headed in the opposite direction to the Fete, tickets clutched tightly in their hands, Arabella coaching the Molly and Arthur on last minute instructions for the judging. Dumbledore watched them leave, his shoulders sagging as if under a heavy weight a look of concern engraved on his face.

"So what's the plan now?" Severus asked.

"Oh Severus! You're still here!" Albus said startled out of his reverie.

"Of course I am. Did you really think I was going to leave this up to those bumbling idiots?" he said nodding towards the Weasleys as they disappeared through the arbour, Arabella trailing behind with a nervous titter.

"Come, come my boy. The Weasleys are not all that. They are quite capable wizards. I have the utmost faith in them. I trust them implicitly."

"It's not that I don't _trust_ them Albus, it's just that I trust me _more_. I am sure I can be of use yet, even if the wards will not let me pass. I can help monitor the perimeter with Hagrid if nothing else. I made a vow. Whether you like it or not, I cannot leave. But I have to say… simply because I don't get the chance that often… but I told you so."

"Told me what?"

"That lending Minerva and I out to the Ministry to teach classes to the Aurors would come to naught."

"Well, at this turn of events it would seem I must agree."

"Indeed." Severus said rubbing his temples. He had a stabbing headache, and all this beating around the bush was just aggravating it. If he didn't put all his energy into focusing his mind, it would start to drift again and that silly little tune that had been plaguing him for days now would pop back into it.

… _da-da da dah… da-da da dah… da-da da-da da-da all stuffed with fluff…_

Bah! There it was again! If this kept up, he was going to need a bed in St. Mungo's mental ward. He hated humming with a passion, and he had no idea where it was coming from. He just wanted it to _go away._

"So… what is the plan?"

"Yes Albus… I'd like to know too," a stern voice questioned from the doorway.

"Minerva! I thought you left."

"I did. However, only long enough to retrieve this." She waived an envelope in the air. "Did you actually think I would abandon my duty just because you told me to toddle on home? I am the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts and I take my job very seriously! I am not one to shirk my duty to our students. I have faith now that Harry's letter was truly delivered to him, as Icarus has never failed me before, but that does leave one letter remaining to be delivered to this year's class of first years. To one…" Minerva adjusted her square glasses and read from an envelope with spidery green writing, "… Mr. D. Dursley, in Two Bedrooms Upstairs, Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey." Looking over her rectangle glasses, she gave him a steely-eyed look that begged him to differ with her, "and I intend to do just that… personally."

"And just _how_ do you intend to do that Minerva?" Severus asked quirking an eyebrow. "You saw how the wards reacted. You can't get past them any more than I can, we both taught Auror classes at the Ministry. You better leave this up to… the Weasleys," he finished with a shudder.

"Nonsense! I'm not going to do that anymore than you are Severus. I'll transfigure into a cat. The wards won't even notice me. Besides, it's the only way Icar… ahem… _Mercury_… is ever going to forgive me for not listening to him. Now if you will excuse me gentlemen… ladies first!" And with that, the Transfiguration teacher shifted form until a tabby cat, with unusual square markings around its eyes, was standing on the floor in front of them with a very smug expression on her furry face.

Both men watched her prance down the walk, tail held high, letter clutched in her teeth, and sighed simultaneously.

"She always was stubborn," Albus mused.

"She's not the only one, you haven't answered me yet."

"I haven't?"

"No. So _what_ is your plan Headmaster?" Severus persisted.

"Why, to rescue Harry! What else?"

"How do you expect to do that? As I recall at dinner the other night, both of the Dursleys told us in no uncertain terms to get out, and that no one from Hogwarts was welcome in their home. Wouldn't that mean you are banned by the wards as well?"

"Nonsense my boy, she merely requested we step out of the house, and we did. Nothing was mentioned about the garden, or about coming back at a later date. Besides, there is no refund on the tickets - at her request," he replied blithely and followed the cat.

'_ARGH! Why do I even bother!' _Severus snarled to himself as he followed the pair out the door.

Severus Snape caught up to Albus at the Garden Gate holding a dazed and slightly singed cat.

"Won't even notice you, eh?" Severus sniped to the cat, only to be rewarded by a claw across the back of his hand as Albus thrust her into his arms.

"Here Severus hold onto Minerva until she has recovered, or take her to Poppy. Whichever you feel best. I need to be going. No telling what Molly and Remus have been up to. There already seems to be a small altercation occurring on the front porch that requires my immediate attention," Albus announced leaving the Potions Master standing on the sidewalk with the irate cat in his arms and his mouth hanging open.

"Wait! Headmaster! Can you help me find..." Ginny's head popped up hopefully just off the edge of the steps, but her small voice failed to carry over the noise of the reporters interviewing the Dursleys, as Albus Dumbledore swept past her intent on finding out what was happening on the front porch of Number 4, "…my brothers?"

"Guess not," she muttered to herself. Rubbing her arms to get rid of the goosebumps crawling up her arms, she sank back down on her heels into the depths of the bush by the porch. It felt as if there was someone right behind her! Expecting to catch one of her brother sneaking up on her, she spun around quickly but glimpsed only the vaguest shimmer of a pale blue light. No one was there. That's odd, she thought, but then dismissed it as a trick of the impish fairy she had seen earlier. Shaking off the feeling, she went back to eavesdropping on the interview taking place on the porch.

**THUMP! CLUNK! BANG! **

A racket sounded from deep within the brick house, audible only because the large walrus looking man from the front porch hadn't shut the door tight behind him when he came back out.

"VERNON! PETUNIA! DUDLEY! WHERE IS EVERYONE! DID YOU FORGET I AM STILL STUCK UP HERE! I'M HUNGRY! RIPPER! GET BACK UP HERE!"

Ginny could hear a woman's voice shouting from the upper level. Well that shot holes in her theory too. Christopher Robin never said anything about any other people living in the Dark Abyss besides the horse, the walrus, the pig, and then his lovey-dovey girlfriend from the garden. And this couldn't be her - the voice didn't sound like it belonged to anyone as nice as what Christopher Robin described his new friend.

Then the walrus stuck his head back into the house and shouted at the unseen woman.

"I'LL GET TO YOU MARGE! JUST SHUT IT FOR NOW! I HAVE IMPORTANT BUSINESS TO TAKE CARE OF FIRST."

"VERNON! HOW DARE YOU TELL ME TO SHUT IT! AND WHAT COULD BE MORE IMPORTANT THAN ME?"

"DON'T FRET MARGE, JUST LET ME FINISH UP HERE, AND THEN AS SOON AS I'VE TAKEN CARE OF THE PROBLEM ONCE AND FOR ALL, YOU'LL BE UNSTUCK."

**SLAM!**

The walrus pulled his head back out and slammed the door behind him. The horse gave a high-pitched whinny of a laugh and told the reporters that 'it was nothing to worry about', that it was just a little 'family' joke, and then shoved a pointed elbow in the walrus's side.

Crouching in bushes, Ginny listened to the conversation with increasing disgust. She didn't see anything remotely funny about them, they were just loud, and not in the loud-happy-fun-loving-family way as the Weasley household was, they were loud and mean.

"Flobbers."

"What?" Ginny spun around startled at the voice in her ear. The strange feeling that someone was right behind her had returned, only this time it included audio.

"I said 'flobbers'. Earlier you said 'buggers'. I think the door is more the colour of squashed flobberworms than buggers. Don't you think?"

A thin little girl sat in the bush next to Ginny, gazing past her to the porch with a dreamy look in her eyes. "I like flobberworms. Most people don't you know. But I like the way they wiggle and they aren't really slimy at all. You would think they would be."

"Are you a fairy?" Ginny asked, still off centre by her companion's rather sudden and unusual appearance. The girl looked rather like a fairy with her long straggly hair the colour of pale moonlight, and her silvery gray almost lavender eyes. She wore little orange radishes for earring and wore a string of butterbeer corks for a necklace. All she needed were wings to complete the look.

"N-noooooo," the little girl said as she started to shake all over. Alarmed Ginny backed up a few inches thinking that she was having a seizure until she saw she was just shaking with silent laughter and holding her sides like they were about to split.

"Oh that is just too funny!" the girl said wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

"And why is that?" Ginny asked suspicious that the girl was mocking her.

"Be-because I was about to ask you the same thing!" she said just about to start laughing again before Ginny shushed her pointing at the people who had just returned to the porch.

"Shush! Quiet! They might hear us." Ginny put a finger to her lips and the other little girl quieted.

"They are rather intimidating for muggles aren't they?" the lavender eyed girl asked.

"Are you a witch?" Ginny eyed her curiously.

"Yes I am. Aren't you?"

"Yes, but I didn't think there were any more magical kids here since this is a muggle garden party … well not girls anyway, there are lots of wizard boys here but those are mostly my brothers and they don't count except … except that I don't know where they are right now. The only one I've seen is the Headmaster, and he's too busy to help me find them," Ginny said sounding a little wistful.

"I came with my father. He's up there," the girl said pointing to the porch where the press was interviewing the tall horse faced woman and the walrus looking man. "He had a tip that an unusual magical phenomenon was happening in a muggle neighbourhood, so he came to investigate."

"Why would he care? Does he work for the Ministry?"

"Oh no! His job is much better than that! He came to investigate so he could write an article about it. He's the editor of The Quibbler," the girl said proudly. "My name is Luna, Luna Lovegood, and I like corks."

"Ginny Weasley," Ginny replied shaking the offered hand. She wasn't sure what to make of the mention of corks so she decided to ignore it for now, but it didn't matter as her new friend's eyes got big at the mention of her name. Luna clapped her hands and squealed with delight.

"Weasley? Really? We're distant cousins then! My father's mother's sister-in-law's great uncle's wife was your Great Great Great Great Grandfather's sister's houseguest! At least I think so … maybe it was your Great Great Great Grandfather's neighbours on the west side of Yorkshire … I always get that wrong. Anyway … cousin!" Luna squealed again and gave Ginny a hug. "But wait a minute … I thought all the Weasleys had red hair! No wonder I never met you before. I was looking for someone who wasn't blonde."

"Oh that's right!" Startled Ginny put a hand to her golden curly locks as she remembered the glamour spell she was under. "Usually I do have red hair, but today I am in disguise."

"Well that's fun!" Luna first said with delight and then cocked her head a little puzzled. "Why?"

"I'm on a secret mission."

"Oh that's all right then. May I help?"

"Maybe …" Ginny said, mulling it over. She really wanted to get into the house. Sure, some of the little details of Christopher Robin's description weren't falling into place, but enough of them were that she really wanted to search the house for cupboards. Perhaps Luna could help her get inside! Glancing at the crowd of people on the porch who were blocking her way to the front door, Ginny turned to her new friend with a grin.

"Do you know how to create a diversion?"

"I find that things just naturally divert when Umgubular Slashkilters are nesting nearby. Don't you?"

"Er … sure Luna. Let's go see if we can find my brothers, maybe they'll know how."

Ginny took the hand of her new friend and pulled her out of the rhododendron and through the crowd, nearly ploughing down a fat blonde boy carrying a plate piled high with sandwiches when they suddenly emerged from the bush.

"Hey! Watch what you're doing! You almost made me bite my tongue!" the boy yelled after them picking a tuna salad croissant off the lawn and adding it back to his plate.

"You better watch what you're doing too Snape, or the Transfiguration teacher'll get your tongue." Moody chuckled as the Potion Master jumped with a start, and the cat cradled in his arm meowed in protest and clawed at his cheek. "Never thought I'd be able to sneak up on you. What with all those extraordinary 'spy' reflexes you keep harping about."

"What are you still doing here Moody?" Snape snarled, ignoring the jab.

"Same as you, I suspect."

"And what do you think that is?"

"I was here earlier… so were you from what you said at the meeting, and I think we both believe there is more going on here than what you can see on the surface."

"Truly. And what do you think that is?"

"Not sure yet, at least not enough to say. Nevertheless, I think I'll just hang around awhile and see what's what. I've already seen something that bothers me."

"And what is that?"

"Just a few moments ago… I was around the other side of the perimeter, checking to see if there were any weak spots in the wards, and they seemed to… for the lack of a better word…'blink'."

"Blink?"

"Blink." Moody confirmed with a nod. "Just for a split second. As if someone turned them off and then back on again. The first time I saw it, I thought I was just my magical eye acting up. Then I saw it again and knew it wasn't. I thought if I kept watch, it might happen again."

"What do you think caused it?"

"The energy readings went off the charts, so I would say some sort of power surge. When it happened the second time I could see straight into the house and there was a faint ball of magical energy right about dead centre of the ground floor."

"Could it be some type of magical artefact? Dark magic?"

"Wouldn't think dark magic. It was giving off a blue aura. Dark Magic isn't typically blue."

"What do you think it was then?" Snape asked as he absentmindedly petted the slightly dazed Minerva whom he was still holding in his arms.

"Not sure, not sure at all. Might just be my eye acting up. However it may just be the way in for us… ahem… would-be 'gate crashers'."

"How so?"

"Next time it blinks I intend to step through."

"We test it first. Albus didn't want a scene in front of the muggles." Severus said in a low voice nodding towards a group just inside the gate being greeted by Dudley Dursley in a tight suit jacket with tails and a straw hat, and looking quite uncomfortable.

"Okay, but how?"

Snape looked down at the dizzy cat he was holding with a slight smirk.

"She'll hex you."

"She wanted to go first."

"She'll hex you."

"She was quite insistent on the matter."

"Then I won't be a part of it. That Scotswomen scares me more than facing ten death eaters. Besides, Dumbledore wouldn't approve."

"Nonsense. The Headmaster told me to do whatever I thought best to help her recover, and this seems best. Moreover, since while we were arguing the muggles wandered away from the gate, this moment seems opportune," Snape replied dryly holding the cat out at arm length. "Just tell me when."

"It's on your head then. Get ready to toss her through the gate… I can see it building up again. One… two… NOW!"

Just as Moody yelled 'Now', Severus felt a stabbing pain in his forearm causing him to drop Minerva to the pavement. It was as if his Dark Mark had sprung to life and Lord Voldemort himself was calling him to a Death Eater's counsel. He hadn't felt pain that intense since the night the Potter's murder. Only what was odder, was that at the same time the pain coursed through him, the silly little tune sprang back to mind. He didn't know which was worse - the throbbing pain in his arm or having that irksome ditty stuck in his head!

'_YEOWWWWWLLLL!' _

Minerva spat at finding herself so rudely dropped, then blinked in surprise and dashed through the arbour, just as Alastor grabbed Severus and followed behind her, the pair landing in a heap on top of the indignant cat. They were in! Extricating herself from the pile, Minerva dashing behind a nearby lilac bush and transformed back into her normal self. She stepped out tidying her bun, little worse for the wear, but obviously perturbed at the two men sprawled at her feet.

"I thought the Headmaster said to 'be discreet' and not draw attention," she sniffed down her nose at them.

"Then perhaps you should help us up?" Moody muttered, as he tried to extricate his wooden leg from the pile of limbs that was Severus.

"I think not. You're both grown men, and quite capable of taking care of yourselves. However, might I suggest you try being a little less noticeable?" McGonagall admonished as a stately gray owl flew down from a tall tree to retrieve an envelope from the sidewalk and then land lightly on her shoulder. "Now as you can see, I have important business to attend to."

Leaving them to fend for themselves, the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry went in search one of her two newest pupils: one Dudley Dursley.

Minerva McGonagall wasn't the only one looking for someone at the Fete. Ginny was still pulling her friend through the crowd looking for her brothers. They just had to be among them somewhere! Seeing several people balancing dainty plates and holding glasses of iced punch she immediately knew where she would find at least one of them - wherever the food was.

Following the trail of food, Ginny was relieved to find not only Ron, but also the two identical junior Potion Masters at the buffet table. As she approached, she had to wonder what they were up to as they were exchanging gleeful grins as her brother Percy stalked off in a huff.

"Did you tick off Percy again?" Ginny asked coming to a stop at George's side.

"Heck no small fry," George laughed fondly, ruffling his sister's new golden curls. "Perce did that to himself. He tried to be the boss of us."

"Even though we warned him not too," Fred added. "Hey, who's your friend?"

"Oh right! Ahem … Luna, these are some of my brothers - Fred, George, and Ron. Brothers, this is Luna Lovegood. She isn't a fairy!"

"Well not usually," Luna agreed holding out her hand to the boys. "But then you never can be too sure of the other times, especially as you two don't have red hair either."

"Ha-ha! That we don't. But then, neither do you," the twins chuckled good-naturedly, not fazed at all by her abrupt turn in the conversation.

"So what was Percy trying to make you do this time?" Ginny asked curious. The twins quite often butted heads with their older brother, especially when Percy was being bossy. However, she knew that it must have been something unusual this time for them go against their promise to their parents to do what Percy told them to do.

"It was really …" Fred started.

"… nothing. We both thought we saw something …" George added.

"… for a split second. But we didn't."

"Perce-the-worst overheard us talking about it."

"He thought we should …"

"… run right over and report it to Snape."

"Like good little boys. And we thought not."

"They didn't want to be pegged as mental," Ron took a pause in his grazing long enough to supply.

"So Percy stomped his feet and ran off to tattle on us," Fred shrugged.

"Doesn't matter to us what ol' Snapey thinks of Perce …" George gave an identical shrug.

"… as long as he doesn't think the same of us."

"What was it you didn't see?" Luna asked, amazing Ginny that she could follow the back and forth conversation as if she had heard it all her life.

"A blue glow. We only caught a glimpse of it …"

"… out of the corner of our eye. But then when we looked closer …"

"… there wasn't anything there."

"Oh I know what that was! I saw it too!" Ginny giggled. "There is a fairy's magic castle in this garden!"

"Er … sure there is Gingerbear," George agreed with her indulgently.

"No, there most definitely is NOT! There is no such thing as magic," a voice snorted from behind them. Dudley was returning from his greeting post by the arbour to pile up his plate a second time to fortify his self until his friends arrived. And he was not at all pleased to find strange kids gobbling down his feast. "This is a perfectly normal garden. My mum wouldn't have it any other way."

"Really? Have you looked around you lately mate?" Ron laughed back. He might have made a better impression on the newcomer if his mouth hadn't been so full of food when he did it. As it was, he spewed chewed bits like tiny missiles all over the front of the boy's maroon tailcoat. Which, while the twins and the girls all thought it was quite funny - the new boy did not.

"Just who do you think you are, and what are you doing in MY garden, eating MY biscuits?" the boy asked pretentiously as he flicked the offending bits off his coat. Besides the tailcoat, the boy was also wearing orange knickerbockers, and a straw boater hat. He was about the same age as Ron, but shorter - despite taking up more than twice the space. The overall effect of his size made the maroon and orange suit look more like a weird coloured sausage casing than a school uniform. The children couldn't help but giggle at the outfit, which also didn't endear them to their host.

George elbowed Fred and whispered 'that must be Pudgely-Dudgely' in his ear. Fred elbowed George back just to keep it even, and nodded his agreement, whispering back 'weren't we supposed to do something if we saw him?' They shrugged at each other before leaving to look for something more interesting to do than refereeing a fight between Ron and Dudley. They were sure their little brother could more than hold his own against an overweight sissy-pant.

Dudley scowled as he watched the twins leave. He could tell they were laughing at him about his weight. He didn't like those boys. They shouldn't have made fun of him in his own garden.

"Your mum make you wear that?" Ron asked sympathetically, uncomfortable in his own too short sleeves and too tight coat. He didn't care if the boy was a bit hefty – he was always ready to make a new friend as long as the other was equally willing.

"Why, what's wrong with it? It's better than yours." Dudley snarled, his eyes narrowing at the strange boy who still hadn't answered his question.

"You're right there mate," Ron laughed affably. Even though the other boy's clothes weren't to his taste, it was obvious they were brand new and of good quality while his own were fourth hand-me-downs, hard-worn, and many times mended. The only thing adding a little polish was the pin that he'd put back on the minute he was out of his dad's sight. "My older brother said we had to dress up today to come here to this lame party," Ron offered by way of an explanation. Then he put his foot in his already full mouth by asking, "So what's your excuse?"

"I live here, and I am NOT your mate!" Dudley said shortly, snatching the still half-full dessert plate out of Ron's hands.

Dudley was quite perturbed. His mum had told him that morning she expected him to be 'the perfect little host' and to make sure all the guests and judges (especially the judges) were having a good time. First, she had made him dress up in his new school uniform, which as it hadn't been altered yet to accommodate his extra girth was _extremely_ uncomfortable, then she had slicked his hair back. Dudley wished his mum didn't have such a big phobia about messy hair. Nevertheless, she did. The result being that she had made sure not a hair on his head was able to move without help, and then cooed about how 'nice' he looked. Dudley thought it made his hair look like a wig. Normally he would have thrown a tantrum and not put up with up, but his Mum had promised to take him and his pals to the cinema and dinner after the Fete if he did as she asked. Coming out of the house, he had expected to find his gang - ready to have some fun. Instead, he found a bunch of kids he didn't know, eating the biscuits he'd made Boy bake just for him and his friends.

"Still doesn't explain the monkey suit," Ron pointed out taking another biscuit off from the confiscated plate and munching on it. It didn't matter to him if Dudley wanted to hold it for him, just made both hands free as far as he was concerned.

"I will have you know this the uniform of THE most prestigious private school in all of England."

"Really? Which one is that? Because I just got accepted to THE most prestigious in all of Great Britain, and ours doesn't look anything like that." Ron bragged puffing up his chest so the sun glinted off from his pin.

"I'll have you know Smeltings is THE MOST prestigious in ALL of the United Kingdom. It was my father's alma mater. I'm attending in September," Dudley said proudly, puffing up his own chest causing strain on the buttons of his coat.

"Can't possibly be, because Hogwarts is. That's where I'm going in September," Ron boasted only to feel Ginny pull urgently on his arm.

"Hogwarts! What kind of name is that for a school? Might as well call it Pigbottom or Sowscum," Dudley laughed.

"_Ron! We aren't supposed to say 'Hogwarts'! Remember? Dad said not to mention it at all! He said the muggles would get upset!"_

"What did she call me?" Dudley demanded suspiciously.

"My sister didn't call you anything," Ron said quickly, motioning for Ginny and her friend to leave. Ginny did, but not before shooting Ron another warning look. "She was … er … just giving me a message from my dad, that's all. So you live here huh? Some spread," Ron observed trying to change the subject while he helped himself to another chocolate-chip biscuit.

"Quit taking MY food! Those are ONLY for friends!" Dudley howled seeing his special order disappearing before his eyes.

"I'vegotfriends," Ron mumbled after taking a third and putting it in his mouth whole.

"Well you're not MY friend! You're not the right sort of people!"

"JustwhatsortamIthen?" he countered, still chewing.

"You're one of those stupid Warthogs that's what you are," Dudley sneered poking at Ron's proudly displayed pin. "And you're not supposed to be here. I'm Telling My Dad, And He's Going To Go Aggro!"

"Don't get your pants in a twist Smelly."

"That's Smeltings!" Dudley yelled and stomped off, but not until stopping at the buffet long enough to scoop up the rest of the chocolate-chip biscuits in a cloth napkin to protect them from Ron's insatiable appetite. Ron just shrugged at the boys actions unconcerned. Nothing was said to get aggravated over as far as he could see so he started in on the mountainous tray of cucumber sandwiches, not noticing that the combination of Dudley's pointed finger pokes and his own over-exaggerated shoulder shrugging had caused his pin to dislodge from the front of his jumper and fall silently into the whipped cream and raspberry topping of the towering pudding confection.

In the front garden, Ron's own father was becoming aggravated himself. The milling crowd had trampled down the lawn exposing the metal stake in the centre just where Tonks had said it would be. Squatting down he fingered the ring that she said the little boy's chain being attached too. He felt like sicking up. Until he saw it, and touched it, her story had been hard to totally believe. However there it was - cold, hard, and undeniable. Those blasted Dursleys! They should have loved and cherished their orphan nephew, but had treated him like a dog instead.

"It's criminal if you ask me." Arthur looked up to see Professor McGonagall addressing him, holding several silver gray owl feathers in her hand, their still mending owner perched on her shoulder. "They have dried blood on them."

"Do you think they belong to Icarus?"

'_Hoooottt!' _

"That means yes," Minerva translated. "I haven't seen either of those poor boys yet, but I did find poisoned owl pellets scattered about in the back garden. I always knew those two were the worst sort of muggles imaginable - hurting a defenceless bird!" Mercury hooted again in agreement before dropping the envelope he was carrying into his mistress's hand and taking flight to join Hedwig in the leafy canopy overhead.

"Imagine what they could do to a defenceless child who can't fly away," Arthur added angrily as he stood up. "I honestly don't know if I can do this."

"Rescue Harry?"

"No... I don't know if I can restrain myself enough to not make his relatives pay for their actions," he said glaring up at the porch were the pair in question had been cornered by an overzealous Xenophilius Lovegood. Petunia's eyes were wide open with fright as she tried to hide behind her husband Vernon, who was doing a fair impression of a flounder caught in a net with his mouth flapping open gasping for air and his eyes bulging. Neither able to squirm away from the Quibbler editor long enough to escape his flashing camera. "However, it appears as though their punishment has already started."

"It's about time," Minerva said unsympathetically, nostrils flaring. "If something isn't done soon Remus will be at that pair's throats - literally."

"Where is he now?" Arthur asked concerned.

"He's searching the flower beds for something Miss Tonks that he promised to find - a cloth bag of some sort she lost here."

"It must contain something important if he gave up looking for Harry to look for that instead."

"I sincerely doubt that he has, but the man has to do _something_. He tried gaining entrance to the house by throwing a good sized rock through a side window however it was all for naught - it bounced off before it even touched the surface. The house seems to be protected by a barrier of its own."

"I know," Arthur sighed, standing back up and brushing the grass from the legs of his trousers, "that was the first thing Molly and I tried to do as well."

"Pitching rocks at their windows?" Minerva asked surprised.

"Ha-ha, no we tried the direct approach through the front door. I don't understand it, Snape said he used a locator spell inside the house, and it's more than obvious Tonks used a number of them in the garden, nevertheless the _'Alohomora'_ spell on the doorknob fizzled. I tried the back door too, without success. It's a downright unfriendly house if you ask me - spells just don't seem to work on it," he said looking dismayed at the thought of doorknobs of all things, betraying him - Arthur Weasley, their most ardent admirer. "Moreover, it's disturbing that they have mirrors in place of windows. It must be dark inside that house with no windows... very... very dark."

"Come, Arthur. I see Albus over there under the Ash tree. Why don't we join him and see if he's come up with a plan?" Minerva suggested breaking the man out of the trance the house was casting over him.

Arthur shook off the cold feeling that looking at the house gave him and offered Professor McGonagall his arm. Guiding her through the thinning crowd, they found that the remainder of the Order had the same idea and were convening around Albus Dumbledore and his Potion Master. Molly was standing in front of pair with her arms crossed, sons Bill and Charlie flanking her on either side in identical poses - the three looking grim, all the while Percy was dancing around the group trying to get someone's attention.

As they approached, buzzing filled the air as if a thousand bees were pollinating the crown of the flowering tree that Moody was leaning against. Moody was standing guard by surreptitiously sending out small spells whenever a muggle wandering towards the group, causing the unwitting soul to turn around and head in the opposite direction. Minerva nodded to him and he nodded back as the pair stepped through the _Muffliato charm _and the sounds of the Fete fell away to be replaced by the monotone voice of Severus Snape telling the others that they were on a fool's errand.

Arthur now understood why his wife was looking angry enough to spit nails.

"...and despite a thorough search of the grounds. I have found no conclusive physical evidence that the memories I witnessed from Miss Tonks were nothing more than a hallucination - most likely caused by her head injury. I must concur that the muggle authority's reports were correct. I say we adjourn before we all have nightmares of this Fete."

"Severus, are you not forgetting the makings of a poultice you found just over there," Albus said calmly pointing out a flat rock near the compost pile in the back corner. "Would that not corroborate her account of the events? She said she saw our young Harry making one."

"A few herbs left on a rock - mere coincidence. What I found could have easily have been left there by a bird or a squirrel."

"If Harry isn't here, then how do you account for the fact that Icarus... I mean Mercury... is!" Minerva challenged him.

Snape pointed up to where two pairs of yellow eyes watched them from their leafy perch, and explained slowly as if talking to one of his classes of first years instead of one of his peers. "If you notice he has a companion. He's a bird. As such he has a bird brain. His motivation is completely driven by the natural urge to procreate. Nothing more – nothing less."

Immediately two bird presents dropped from above making known Mercury and Hedwig's opinion of his unflattering assessment.

"Now that IS something birds might leave," Minerva stifled a laugh as Severus Snape flicked off the 'gifts' bestowed upon him with a potion stained fingernail.

"Nevertheless, it makes more sense than the alternate scenario - a Potter actually working and making something with his own two hands. Absurd."

"Snape - are you trying to say that Harry isn't here and isn't in danger? That's preposterous! We know he is!"

"Moreover, they were an inferior choice of herbs. Clearly they were not intended to be a potion of any kind," Severus continued in his non-negotiable low monotone totally ignoring Arthur's remark, causing the other man to put a hand on his arm and yank him around to face him.

"But I found the metal stake, right where Tonks said it would be in the middle of the lawn!" Arthur cut in, incensed at his change in attitude.

"I am sure it has a legitimate purpose for being there Weasley, one which doesn't involve Miss Tonks' fantasy world."

"Like what Snape?"

"The first thing that comes to mind is perhaps they tie that yapping dog to it so it doesn't get loose and bite the neighbours," he commented as Ripper could be heard howling faintly through an upstairs window.

"You witnessed Tonks' memories of Harry yourself."

"I will say it again - she had a concussion."

"But you said they were genuine. How do you explain that?" Arthur demanded frustrated.

"Lack. Of. Sleep." Severus clipping out each word slowly and brushed off the man's hand.

"Build a bridge and get over it Snape. No matter how much you deny it, I know Harry is here somewhere," Arthur returned just as firmly. "I'd bet my life he's in that house. I just can't see in the blasted windows to prove it!"

"That's because they're made of muggle two-way mirror," Moody supplied.

"I didn't think muggles had that type of communication device. Where is the other mirror?" Arthur frowned glancing around with a trace of worry about just who might be witnessing their actions.

"Who do you think is watching us right now - the Ministry?" Bill asked unknowingly voicing his father's worry and talking a small side step to put Charlie between himself and the gloomy house. With a small apologetic shrug to his brother he explained, "You never can be too careful."

"No Bill – a muggle two-way mirror is made to be seen through from the far side like a window, and then reflect from the front as a normal mirror."

"How can you tell that's what it is?" Charlie asked pushing his brother away.

"One way is to touch it with an object, such as the tip of my cane. If it's two-way mirror the tip's reflection will seem to touch without a gap between it and the real object. Also if rapped, an actual mirror will sound dull, while a two-way one will echo."

"But you can't get close enough to touch it, the house won't let you. How do you propose to test your theory?" Arthur asked.

"There are other ways. If you turn off the lights in the room you're in, and put a torch to the pane, it will make the hidden chamber behind it light up," Moody continued, determined to make his point.

"That's plain silly, how do you expect to put out the lights? A handy eclipse perhaps?" Molly asked pointing up to the blazing sun overhead.

"Wait Molly! I see what Alastair saying... during the daytime, the people in the house can spy out, but no one can spy in because of the sunlight outside. However at night it would appear more or less normal when people are more apt to notice." Arthur paraphrased as understanding lit up his eyes. "That explains why they didn't seem out of the ordinary to the Headmaster and Professor Snape when they were here in the evening."

"Exactly. I was introduced to it at the Muggle police station I visited. Quite an enlightening stopover."

"Did they say how to break it?" Remus snarled coming up to the group. "If they didn't, I would say that bit of trivia is bloody useless."

"It isn't the two-way glass keeping you out Remus. It's another layer of wards protecting the house itself. However, it does give one pause to wonder why they have it installed in all their windows on the ground level. From what I understand, it isn't normal to use it outside of a police station," Moody replied.

Remus snorted, "There is nothing 'normal' about this family."

"I believe the real question here is not why the Dursley's installed it, but who or what is it the Dursley's are afraid might be seen inside their house during the day, but is hidden away from view at night?" Albus commented after listening to Moody's explanation.

"It's Harry! It has to be!" Remus answered immediately.

"Perhaps they just don't like nosy parkers," Snape quipped at the overwrought werewolf, only to earn a fierce glare from more than one set of eyes.

"The blue aura... it was odd. Come to think of it, it could have been a small child trying to hide under something," Moody said rolling his magical eye towards the house where he had seen the faint ball of magical energy when the wards had blinked earlier.

"Not that again," Snape snarked exasperated. "I thought you said that was your eye acting up." The longer he had to stay in his hot uncomfortable muggle disguise, at the noisy and crowded Fete, the more he desired to be back in the solitary comfort of his cool quiet dungeon.

"That was only one possible explanation," Moody mused, carefully taking a long swig from his flask and then wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

"The twins saw something odd too!" Percy claimed excitedly through the break in the conversation. "I told them they should report it to you right away, but they wouldn't come, so I came instead," he gloated not realizing that he just announced to those whose opinions counted the most to him that he was a tattle-tell.

"No doubt if they did, they caused it as well - which is why they declined," Snape said dryly.

Arthur and Molly wanted to argue with his callous assessment of their sons, but with Albus' next words, they realized Severus was probably right.

"Ah Percy, my son, do not think too harshly of your brothers, for they are only doing that which Professor Snape consented to."

"And what was that Headmaster? I don't recall telling that duo to do anything," Snape replied with a vague feeling of guilt he couldn't quite place settling in.

"Right before we came in… I distinctly heard them ask you if it was all right if they donated a few of the treats they brought with them to the buffet table. As a hostess gift I believe."

"Is that what they asked? Well, I quite clearly replied 'No'." Snape said relieved until her heard muffled snorting coming from the entire Weasley section. "I fail to see what is so amusing."

Arthur explained, "If you tell that pair no, they hear it is as two no's cancelling each other out, and making it a yes."

"What do they hear if you tell them yes?"

"Yes."

"Then you're telling me that no matter what you say, they will go ahead and do what they want?"

"Welcome to fatherhood," Arthur quipped. "And you know what they say - the father is ultimately responsible for his son's behaviour. So this one is on you."

"Headmaster! If you knew what they were up to, why didn't you stop them?" Snape asked shocked that anyone would allude that he was even remotely responsible for the actions of the Weasley twins.

"It sounded helpful."

"Helpful? You call that helpful? I thought you didn't want us to do anything to draw attention," Snape accused pointing at a trio of muggle women with tidbit plates in their hands and bright yellow feathers starting to sprout out from underneath the brims of their fancy garden hats.

"Those must be their canary creams," Bill surmised.

"I thought those weren't ready to test yet," Charlie remarked as he turned to watch the women stroll by. The feathers started multiplying, until the trio chanced to look at one another, froze, dropped their plates, and ran screaming out of the garden.

"Close enough apparently," Bill laughed dryly.

The group turned their eyes towards the buffet table.

"I told them they weren't supposed to bring any of that stuff! I told them they had to behave like perfect gentlemen! I told them! I told them! I did! I did!" Percy whinged unbecomingly. He certainly didn't want to be blamed for anything those two did either!

The twins waved cheerily when they noticed themselves being watched by the adults, and then helped another guest to fill a plate.

"Tut tut! There, you see? No worries, the young Weasleys are being most accommodating."

"How? By bringing the Ministry down on our heads?"

"I am sure by now they already are on their way, or soon will be. The special edition of the Quibbler that Xenophilius Lovegood is busily penning as we speak will guarantee their presence before the sun sets."

"Then how in the name of Merlin is using muggles as guinea pigs for their experiments a good thing? What about the Muggle Protection Act? We'll all end up in Azkaban because of their pranks!"

"Nonsense Severus. They are just ensuring we have fewer witnesses. Moreover, I am certain we will have all left the premises before the Ministry gets here. That's the beauty of bureaucracy. It slows everything down to a snail's pace," the old wizard pointed out as he gave a small wave back.

Hearing the Headmaster's words in support of his rule-breaking brothers, served to simultaneously deflate and irritate Percy who stomped off muttering under his breath. "There's just no pleasing some people..."

The headmaster paid him no mind and continued, "As our window of opportunity seems to be diminishing along with the crowd, we must take action soon."

"Surely you speak in jest Headmaster! Are you still insistent upon on pursuing this wild goose chase? I say the sooner we depart the better. Even the muggles know better than to stay at this fiasco!"

"Come now Severus," the old wizard frowned at him, "surely, not even you can resist this particular challenge."

"Try me."

"I believe the press interview has finally come to an end," Albus announced nodding toward the front of the house where one by one the reporters and cameramen were leaving to file their stories. "One of us should approach the Dursleys and secure an invitation into their abode."

"I'll do it," Minerva McGonagall volunteered only to be immediately counter-offered by Arthur Weasley.

"No it should be Molly and I who talk with the Dursleys. We're here as judges for the Fete and discussing this beautiful garden would be a natural lead-in to the conversation," Arthur pointed out while Molly dug her fingernails into his arm in distress at the thought of anyone else going inside before her.

The garden was indeed beautiful. However, the idyllic setting was doing little to ease Molly's tension. Earlier while trying to get in the kitchen door with Arthur she had tried to send reassuring thought to her soon-to-be son Harry, that they were there and very close, all he had to do was to wait just a few more moments and he would be safe in her arms. But they couldn't get the door to open no matter what spell they threw at it – it was as if the door itself was laughing at them. As she had stood there feeling frustrated and helpless a sensation of love and forgiveness had come over her. In that moment she had been sure that she had felt Harry's small hand slipping into hers, his fingers squeezing hers with as much reassurance as she had just tried to send him, only to find her hand empty when she squeezed it back. As the feeling vanished she could almost hear him in her mind asking her to not be disappointed in him for not waiting for her, and not to worry about him any longer. But if anything, the feeling made her worry all the more.

"I am also well known for my savoir faire around muggles," Arthur continued. "Besides, if anyone would know how to adhere to the Muggle Protection Act it would be me, since I wrote it."

"And yet you failed to teach the spirit of the law to your evil spawn," Snape muttered unimpressed.

"Splendid idea Arthur!" the Headmaster concurred much to Molly's relief, and to Arthur's as she let go her grip. "However, it might be best to leave your wands with me for the time being. We wouldn't want anything untoward to transpire before we find what we came for... would we?"

"I'm not giving you my wand!" Molly disagreed vehemently, holding tightly to the slim piece of wood that had appeared unbidden into her hand from somewhere within the folds of her skirt.

"I'll hold on to it for you Mum," Charlie offered taking custody of his father's as well.

"Why do I even try to be a voice of reason?" Severus questioned under his breath as the pair broke away from the group.

"Don't worry about it Professor. We discovered a long time ago that its best not to argue with our parents when they have their minds made up to do something," Charlie remarked coming up to stand beside the dour man as they both watched Arthur tap Vernon Dursley on the shoulder to get his attention.

"Or even when they don't have their minds made up," Bill added pulling on his earring as he came up to stand on the other side of Severus Snape and watching the exchange between his parents and the Dursleys speculatively. "They may look all soft and easy going..."

"And possibly a bit daft," Charlie agreed affectionately.

"...but underneath those mild-manner exteriors they are really rather fearsome when it comes to family," Bill concluded as his father proceeded to use the only weapon left readily available to him to punch Vernon Dursley right smack in his smug face causing him to fall backwards to the ground with a resounding '**THUD**'.

"Ah yes... the famous Weasley 'savoir faire' in action." Severus Snape's timely observation made Bill and Charlie choke with laughter.

"OW! That Sir was totally uncalled for!" Vernon yelped self-righteously as Petunia tried to help him to his feet while simultaneously holding a dainty handkerchief to his nose should it decide to bleed and spoil his starched white shirt. It didn't - it wasn't even broken, but the din of his indignant bellowing masked the jangling sound of falling metal into the soft grass as she pulled him off the ground. "I only observed that you do not look to be the proper sort! Your response does nothing to dissuade me from that opinion!"

"No matter what 'sort' you think I am - I'm here to judge. And from what I've seen so far there isn't a grade low enough," Arthur snapped before turning to his wife to whisper pitifully "I'm sorry Molly I just couldn't stop myself, and I think I may have hurt my hand..."

"That's fine Arthur. You've done quite enough. I'll take over from here." Molly stepped in front of him, just as Petunia did the same with Vernon.

Both women's eyes narrowed suspiciously as they sized each other up.

Molly was doing everything she could to show restraint, while wanting nothing more than to follow Arthur's lead and take down the scrawny self-righteous twig in front of her. Even without a wand she knew she could. However, she also knew that she had to smooth things over if they had any hope of salvaging the situation and secure an invitation into the house so she could rescue her soon-to-be son.

Petunia thinking only that she would never entrust the important duty of finding judges for 'HER' Fete to that scatter-brained Arabella Figg again, no matter if the other Garden Club members thought that she was unfairly rigging the voting to her advantage by choosing ones who owed her in some fashion. While that speculation was all too accurate of how she indeed narrowed the field, nothing could be worse than this pair Arabella picked. There was clearly something abnormal about them. Now she was forced to be gracious in spite of it to have any hope of salvaging the situation and being awarded the prize that was rightfully due her.

Both women put on sickly sweet smiles for each other's benefit.

"My husband was only questioning your qualifications for the prestigious appointment of garden show judge - a perfectly _Normal _question considering _The Circumstances_," Petunia said snootily, raising her plucked pencil thin eyebrows at the slightly plump woman in front of her, her long thin nose twitching as if she smelled a nasty odour amid the heavy sweet scent of the abundant blossoms.

Molly had no doubt about where Petunia thought the nasty odour was originating. "Of course, you have every right to inquire since _You_ are a _Contestant_," Molly returned pleasantly anyway. "My husband does apologize for his overreaction… don't you Arthur?"

"_No I don't! He called me a blithering idiot!" _Arthur hissed in her ear.

"_But you are one dearest, and remember what we're here for,"_ Molly hissed back.

"Fine then."

"There you go Mrs. Dursley," Molly smiled, "all better now. And please let me assure you that my husband and I both have a very close relationship with the magical intricacies of the natural world."

"Did you... did you say 'ma-magical'?" Petunia turned pale under her heavy makeup.

"Of course magical..." Molly responded nonchalantly waving her hand at the riotous blooms around them "...what other word could you _possibly_ use to describe all '_your'_ lovely work in this garden?"

"Oh... oh yes, all my lovely work," Petunia faltered, unsure if she just heard a compliment or not - the words were right but look in the woman's eyes and her tone of voice seemed to hold another deeper meaning. However on the surface (and Petunia was nothing if not shallow) this unfamiliar judge did seem to be appreciating her efforts. If all was not lost then she might still win the contest! Moreover, to win her coveted prize, she was more than willing to be the bigger person and accept the glossed over apology.

"Now aren't we all just the best of friends," Molly beamed and slipped her arm through Petunia's to gently guide her back towards the porch and her real objective - entering the house and rescuing Harry. "I do have to say you have a remarkable green thumb my dear, I don't think I have ever seen delphiniums quite so lovely, and the scent from your roses is breathtaking. You must tell me _all_ your secrets."

"I wouldn't say that I have any 'secrets' per se," Petunia simpered, relieved that things were looking up with at least one of the judges on her side, and the other one under control. "It was just good old-fashioned hard work and discipline. Why, I've practically worn myself to a frazzle making sure everything was ready in time for the Fete and then I was practically accosted by flashbulbs when I walked out my own front door! Now mind you, I don't mind a little press coverage when they are respectable, but what strange questions that one peculiar reported had. You would not believe how very stressful it was..."

"There, there, my dear - how very trying for you. It seems as if no matter what you do you just can't please everyone."

"How so very, very true!" Petunia sighed at finding a kindred soul in the frumpy judge.

"Perhaps we should go inside where it's cool and sit down. We could have a nice cuppa while you tell me all about it. Molly is here to listen..." she said comfortingly patting Petunia's arm.

Vernon, who had been trailing behind the two women while keeping a respectable distance from Arthur, scowled at this suggestion. His pitiful slave had mopped up most of the blood he disrespectfully split on the hallway floor that morning, but he hadn't had the opportunity to make him do a more thorough scrubbing from one end to the other. In addition, there was that annoying matter of Marge being stuck upstairs. If people were to go inside, Marge would be sure to make a scene if she still wasn't able to come down and join them. Marge fancied herself the authority on whatever was happening at the moment, and as at the moment he was no longer sure himself what was happening, he didn't want that complication. Today things were definitely NOT NORMAL! However, he DEFINITELY knew whom to blame that on! Best all around to keep everyone out of the house and away from the source of everything that was wrong in his world until he could deal with it properly. These busybodies must not find out the truth of what goes on behind his door.

As Vernon moved up to cut off the women before they reached the door, Arthur, seeing what he was doing, tried to distract his attention once more, only this time more diplomatically.

"Tell me the truth Mr. Dursley…"

Vernon startled as the oddly dressed judge seemed to be reading his thoughts. He stopped dead in his tracks and his hands flew up to shield his nose. Just in case…

"…do you get a charge from it? Er… working with drills and such I mean?"

"Drills and such?"

"I hear they run off eckeltricity. Then they must also have plugs - right? Do you have any spares?" Arthur was doing his best to follow Molly's lead and to try to forget what a scumbag he was attempting to make small talk with. If only he could have put the memory of that iron stake out of his mind earlier, then he wouldn't have decked the man and wouldn't have to be making nice now. No... he would have punched him anyway. Not that it solved anything but he felt better for it.

"What in thunderation are you blathering about! It sounds like you're talking a load of old bollocks. Spare what? Are you fishing for a bribe?" Vernon asked annoyed that the man whom had accosted him earlier had the effrontery to still be on the premises, let alone to be begging him for spare change. Not that it didn't look as if he needed some, however if it wasn't for Pet wanting that blasted trophy he would have tossed him out on his ear immediately. It was only the fact that he had been taken by surprise that the man had the opportunity to lay a finger on him at all.

"Plugs - I have a plug collection. Fascinating items don't you think?"

"I do NOT think!"

"But you must! The Captain of Industry that you are."

"Too true, I am," Vernon agreed and puffed up. "But why again must I?"

"Because plugs are the very foundation of... of... well without them the entire mug… er… I mean the entire world would screech to a halt. Eckeltricity thingymajigs can't run without one and the thingymajigs are practically everywhere. Drills _are_ eckeltical aren't they?"

Vernon dropped his guard. All thought of his wife and the woman judge wandering towards the forbidden front door sifted completely out of his brain at the smell of a business opportunity. He needed to make another sale soon or he'd be in danger of getting sacked. Sanderson had made that very clear. So until he either sold his slave, or the wretched boy started bringing in a steady income, he needed to make sure that didn't happen.

"So you have an interest in drills Sir?"

"Yes I do!"

"Well, well, well. Why didn't you say so? That puts an entirely new light on things. What was it you said you did? Ha-ha! When you're not judging garden fetes that is," Vernon asked jovially, his nose no longer out of joint at the prospect of a new customer.

"I don't believe I did say, but I have always wondered… just what do you use them for? Drills that is. Is it anything to do with how airplanes stay up in the air?"

"Airplanes? Are you mad?" Vernon's smile turned to a scowl as he quickly realized this conversation was not going to lead to a sale.

"My wife thinks so, but there you are. She doesn't understand my very large collection of batteries either."

Vernon turned red with barely disguised anger. _Another oddball!_ First that nosy applicant who followed him home then the persistent reporter with his bizarre questions, and now this judge. Anything this abnormal must be that worthless boy's fault and he simply would not put up with it any longer. And put a stop to it he would, just as soon as he got rid of all these idiotic persons roaming around his property sticking their noses where they don't belong, and he sent Marge packing back to her kennels. He'd have all night to make the insolent boy pay for his defiance - ruining Petunia's Fete and stranding Marge upstairs... MARGE!

"P**ETUUUUUNNNNIA!"** he bellowed across the garden causing Molly to run into the back of his wife when she stopped suddenly, her hand on the doorknob.

"Oomph! Oh my! Excuse me!" Petunia startled uneasy at how close behind her the other woman had been following. So close that the woman had actually trod on the backs of her shoes when she paused. Petunia limped awkwardly on her half-off heels to the porch rail and called back to her husband. "Yes dear? What do you want? I'm about to have a cup of tea with the judge."

"Nonsense Pet! We've already taken up enough of their valuable time. They need to get back to job at hand or they never will get out of here... heh-heh, I mean if we monopolize their visit, it won't appear impartial, and it will only delay the awarding of the prizes. We don't want that - do we Pet? It must be all on the _UP_ and _UP,_" he said waggling his heavy eyebrows in the direction of the loud snoring wafting out of the upstairs guest bedroom window, where his sister was taking an afternoon nap as she was bored and there was nothing else to do upstairs – all her complaining having fallen on deaf ears.

"Heaven's no!" Petunia gasped and turned back to woman judge. "My husband is quite right. We'll have to take that cup of tea another time. You do understand don't you?"

"Of course I do Mrs. Dursley. No worries at all. Of course… a nice cup of tea and a friendly chat so we could get to know each other better would certainly help me make up my mind which garden is the loveliest. I've seen so many this morning, that it makes it terribly difficult to choose between them..." Molly hinted with a conspiratorial wink when what she felt like doing was sinking to her knees and begging. She would promise Petunia _anything_ if she would _just open that door!_

Petunia hesitated. She really wanted that prize and this judge was practically guaranteeing it was hers for the price of a cup of tea and a cosy chat. If it weren't for Marge being stuck upstairs because of the freak and his freakishness, they would already be inside exchanging lumps of sugar and gossip. Damn that boy! How she wished she had never opened the door to bring in the milk on that cold November morning so long ago. If she had only known that such a small action then would have had such long lasting consequences. Life was so unfair, why did it have to continually pick on her?

"I would love to however I really must take care of my other guests as well. Oh look!" Petunia gasped in despair. "There go some of the club members now. No! No! No! They are starting to leave early! Whatever will they think of me! What with the unexpected press interview and such, I haven't been able to greet them properly! Surely you understand that it would be unfair to deprive them of my presence any longer?"

"Of course…" Molly agreed half-heartedly as Petunia sailed off to stop the Garden Club from leaving. Looking down at her clipboard with the list of gardens entered into the competition and the instructions for ranking them. Under the category for 'Overall Experience' she marked a big fat zero next to Petunia Dursley's name and sighed. She needed to find Arthur and admit she failed. Hopefully he had more luck with Vernon Dursley.

Ginny and Luna ran through the crowd, ducking legs and dangling purses, in search of Ginny's mum and dad. That is - Ginny was actively searching for them. Luna was just trailing after her, happy to have found a new friend in such an unlikely place. They found the Weasley parents in the front garden, intently taking notes on the flora and marking on their clipboards as if their lives depended on it. As Ginny ran up to her mother, Luna lagged shyly behind.

"C'mon Luna! My parents will want to meet you!"

"Okay," she agreed allowing herself to be dragged forward. "But I really do think they would rather be meeting someone else."

Luna's own mother had died just a scant year before when one of her more spectacular experimental spells went spectacularly awry. Luna witnessed the accident, and ever since her father took her everywhere with him - unwilling to let her out of his sight lest he lose her too. While Xenophilius Lovegood's behaviour towards his daughter was justifiably overprotective considering the circumstances, at the same time in being so, it exposed the observant little girl to many new adult thoughts and ideas - which in turn made her sometimes seem wise beyond her years with her curiously candid observations.

"Mum! Dad! I found - well I didn't find it yet - but I think I can because I did see the walrus and the horse, so the green door has to be here somewhere! Will you help us look? Will you? Pleeeeasssse!"

"Ginny! There you are! I came in. No Ginny. I was worried sick! You were supposed to stay with Mr. Fletcher!"

"Sorry Mum… I kind of lost him."

"What if something had happened to you?" Molly scolded. She was more relieved than angry but she couldn't help herself. Ever since entering the garden, she had felt the presence of her almost-son stronger than she ever had before. At first, the feeling elated her knowing he was close by, however it also kicked her motherly intuition into overdrive, which in turn gave her a powerful sense that something was seriously wrong. She knew in her heart that he had given up, and they were out of time. Molly had little doubt of it, but when she tried to explain how she knew it to Arthur, he just looked at her as if she had two heads and both of them were talking gobbledegook. Therefore, when Molly spotted her missing daughter dashing towards her, she assumed the worst.

"But it didn't and I found a new friend! This is Luna Lovegood! She's not a fairy!"

"If you're not a fairy then you must be Xenophilius Lovegood's daughter," Arthur commented amused.

"Must I? I don't really think of it that way... 'must'... that sounds like something you have to do whether you want to or not" Luna mulled over the word carefully and then declared, "I think of it more of a 'get to'. I like being Daddy's daughter. It's interesting."

At Luna's wide-eyed and very serious stare Ginny's father just nodded absentmindedly in agreement, coughed, and scribbled on his form. "Molly – is that a geranimummy or an azzagalia?"

"It's a daisy dear, and don't change the subject. Just where have you been Ginevra Molly Weasley? And where did you leave Mundungus Fletcher?"

Ginny knew whenever her mum called her by her full given name she was in trouble, but Molly's enveloping hug a breath later contradicted that. Parents - who can figure them out? As soon as she got loose of the stranglehold she tried to explain.

"When we were coming in Mr. Fletcher let go of my hand. I couldn't help it! Then I couldn't find him again. So I did what Daddy always told me to do if I ever got lost - I stayed in one place. But he never came!" Ginny then turned to her father. "Daddy... you-you said if I ever got lost you would always find me! Always! You promised! Why-why didn't you?" The last bit said with a catch in her voice that betrayed how frightened she really had been.

"Ginny I'm so sorry. Will you forgive me?" Arthur knelt down on one knee to her eye level to apologize. He had been so wrapped up in the mission to save Harry that he had forgotten he already had someone just as important to safeguard. Perhaps the children shouldn't have come after all. He hated it when he had to admit that Severus Snape was right. The man was irritatingly smug whenever that happened.

"Maybe… if you will help me look for the green door…"

"I think maybe you and your brothers should go back to Mrs. Figg's house before something happens." Arthur told her gently. As he and Molly had failed to gain entrance to the house proper, it was only a matter of time before Remus exploded with frustration. The full moon had been less than a week ago and the normally unobtrusive man was still ragged and on edge from his transformation. His pacing had already ground down a circular path around the house. Arthur knew he wouldn't last much longer and didn't want his children in the way when it happened.

"No Daddy! No! I need to..."

"Don't argue with your father Ginny. It's for the best," Molly said backing him up.

"But...!"

"No buts young lady," her mother said firmly. "Go find your brothers and let them know too."

"But...!"

"Listen to your mother and scoot. Best take your little friend back to her father on your way."

Ginny reluctantly left with Luna in tow, who waved goodbye to Molly and Arthur as they left. Her courage back, now that she knew where her parents were, she wasn't quite ready to give up her quest. So instead of heading to where Luna's father and the other reporters were comparing notes, she headed towards the buffet table. She was sure she would at least find her brother Ron still there - he was always hungry! By now that fat boy might have left, if so she might be able to convince Ron to tear himself away from the food long enough to help them. Not that she was outright disobeying her parents or anything... her dad had only said 'maybe' she should leave, and her mum had agreed but hadn't said how soon. As she saw it that just meant she would have to be quick about her hunt, and find Christopher Robin before anything did happen.

Dodging around either side of a slow moving elderly woman who was sprouting vivid yellow feathers under the brim of her flowery garden hat, Ginny and Luna arrived back at the banquet only to find the twins alone. _ 'Even better!' _she thought. They helped her look for the door before so she wouldn't have to explain why, all over again. However, she would have to ask them to explain what they were doing using the punch bowl to mix up a new concoction. She thought that would have been a no-no.

"What did you do to it?" Ginny asked suspiciously as a steam tendril rose from the effervescent surface and tried to entice her to try it by beckoning to her like crooked finger.

"Nothing… nothing at all Gingerbear," George hemmed.

"Then why is it waving at me?"

"Just ignore it," Fred hawed as he fanned away the tempting wisp and quickly penned a note that read 'Spiced Punch' and in small letters underneath 'for small-minded Adults Only', then propped it in front of the bowl.

"Are you sure it's punch? When Daddy took me to Borneo to investigate the declining Acromantula population, he showed me a potion for making shrunken heads. It looked like that. Does yours shrink heads too?" Luna asked curious with a tilt of her head.

"Ha-ha-ha… not exactly. Ours is non-toxic… probably… er… Luna was it?"

"Yes and it still is. If it doesn't shrink heads then why does your sign say it's only for small-minded adults?"

"Because if big-headed adults drank it…" Fred started.

"… they would get an even bigger head," George added holding his nose and puffing up his cheeks to demonstrate.

"And we'd hate to contribute to anyone feeling superior to us."

"Too much of that going around already," George agreed vehemently letting out his breath.

"I think you two are funny!" Luna laughed.

"That we don't mind," they said together and grinned.

"Then could you help us?" Ginny asked as she looked over the buffet and settled on a small piece of angel food cake. At one time it had been covered with pristine white whipped cream dotted with plump red raspberries. However with the heat, it was now a rather sad looking lumpy pink mess. Ginny concluded it was the safest bet of having not been tampered with by her prankster brothers. They liked to make their treats look too tempting to resist.

"Help with what Gin-Gin? Eating your pudding?" Fred asked wiping a speck of cream off her nose with his finger then sticking it in his mouth, making her laugh.

"No silly! I am more than capable of eating it myself," she said sticking out her tongue at him and then taking a very large mouthful of the sweet concoction to prove it. Ginny immediately got a very funny look on her face and started choking. Fred swiftly hugged her from behind causing her to dislodge the bite which she instinctively caught in her hand.

"Are you sure about that?" he teased and stole a berry off her plate, tossed it up in the air, and caught it in his mouth. "Yum! Doesn't seem anything to get choked up about to me."

Ginny stared at the bite she had spit up. That was no raspberry she about swallowed… that was Ron's pin! She wiped it off and stuffed it in her skirt pocket. "Er… you're right. Here have the rest," Ginny said shoving the plate at her brother. "Now how about that help? I think the green door is here. Will you help Luna and I look for it?"

Fred and George exchanged looks and nodded to each other. Their little sister was becoming overly obsessed with this imaginary door. They probably shouldn't encourage it any more than they already had.

"Sorry Gin, but we need to stay here and er… take notes. Besides you have a new friend right here, why don't you play with her?"

"Notes? Like Mummy and Daddy are taking about the garden?" she asked disappointedly. She was so sure they would help.

"Yeah notes - only not that kind. We are conducting a very important experiment."

"VERY important," George echoed. "Our future success in business may depend on it."

"Really? Daddy would be so interested!" Luna exclaimed. "Shall I go get him to interview you for the Quibbler?"

"Er... let's not involve any adult just yet. We are... um..."

"...still in the top secret stage," Fred supplied.

"But can't you come with us for just a few minutes?" Ginny begged.

"It would ruin the experiment if we left now. A properly conducted experiment requires strict methodology, careful observation…"

"… and the most meticulous recordkeeping. We're writing it up for extra credit in Potions when we get back to school," George finished proudly.

"Our only obstacle seems to be getting the muggles to fill out the questionnaires before they run away," Fred said his eyebrows drawing to a vee as he looked at his forms perplexed. "I don't understand it - perfectly standard questions - height, weight, age, blood type, hat size, health history, next of kin…"

"Ha-ha, you see Percy isn't the only overachiever in the family. Even if he would like to believe so, we are just more creative about it." George explained at the sceptical look in his little sister's eyes.

"Hey why don't you go find Ron? I think he's so bored he's going a bit mental," Fred mentioned.

"I can't find him. I thought he'd be here."

"Last time we saw him he was muttering to himself and crawling around on the front lawn," George laughed making circles in the air with his finger near his temple. "Now scram, we have a couple more vic- um... I mean 'clients' headed this way."

"Would you young ladies care for a cup of nice refreshing punch? That is if your mothers say it's alright – this punch is only for adults..." Fred and George flirted with a trio of middle aged matrons approaching the table causing them to giggle like schoolgirls.

"C'mon Luna," Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother's antics. "Let's get out of here. They're not going to be any help whatsoever."

"But I'm thirsty. My head isn't overly large so I'm sure Daddy would say its okay."

"No he wouldn't, believe me," Ginny said taking her hand and dragging her away to look for her other brother. Luckily they didn't have to look far - Ron was right where George and Fred had said he'd be.

"Ginny? Why is your brother crawling on the ground? Is he looking for a niffler nest?"

"Who knows why Ron does anything – he's a boy. Boys are always doing dumb things." Ginny fingered Ron's pin in her pocket. She actually had a very good idea of what he was looking for.

"Hey! I can hear you, you know." Ron stopped combing through the grass and sat back on his heels to up at the two girls casting annoying shadows over his search grid.

"Good because we need your help."

"Too bad because you're not going to get it. I'm busy. Now get out of my light."

Ginny was hurt by his gruff words and her fingers closed stubbornly around the pin. Ron wasn't usually like this and she knew he was probably just worried about what their dad would say if he found out Ron lost his pin. But that didn't mean he had to be so mean about it! However, her brother's tone didn't seem to faze her new friend at all.

"Can we help? I love nifflers! Some people think they look too much like rats, but I think they're cute. If you find a nest could I have one for a pet?"

"You can have the whole bloody litter for all I care," Ron muttered. He just had to find his pin and he had no idea where he was when it had fallen off his jumper so he was retracing his steps since entering the garden. All he knew was that he'd had it when he came in, didn't have it now, and would never live it down if he went home without it.

"Oh goody!" Luna clapped her hands together then got down on all fours and put her nose to the ground. Her lavender eyes lighting up when they caught a flash of silver in the deep green sea. It wasn't a niffler but it was the next best thing - proof to her that a niffler nest was close by! Nifflers loved shiny things!

"I thought you were going to help me look for the green door," Ginny reminded her standing between the two with her hands on her hips, tapping her toe impatiently.

"Oh that's right. Sorry Ronald, but it was very nice to meet you again," Luna apologized as she stood back up and held out her hand. Ron didn't notice it in his frustration as his fingers raked through the blades and came up empty once more. Luna's hand drop and she shrugged. Ron's snub didn't really bother her all that much. She was used to be considered odd by other kids. "Oh well that's okay, but if you find the niffler nest I'd appreciate it if you saved one for me."

"Yeah sure, whatever..." Ron dismissed the girls and continued his futile searching. Now he wished he'd never come to the bloody Fete. Even the grass was laughing at him, it was so even and perfect it looked fake, and it had swallowed his special pin whole! Maybe Ginny's new friend was right and there were nifflers around - they like to steal shiny objects.

Ginny was at a loss for who to go to next for help. Peeking around the corner of the house she could see her two oldest brothers deep in conversation with the Headmaster and the scary looking Professor Snape. In the past she had found it much easier when faced with such situations to use her own judgement rather than to interrupt an adult discussion. If there was more than one adult, they all would chime in with opposite opinions and ultimately nothing would get done. Her next oldest brother had returned to where her twin brothers were holding court over the buffet table. Even from here she could tell he was trying to tell them what to do again. That was quite unwise on Percy's part - he should know better by now, and she knew enough to stay out of all of their ways when he was doing it. She supposed she could admit to Ron she'd already found his pin, and offer to return it if he'd help her out, but she could be just as stubborn as he. That left her quite out of brothers at the moment.

"I guess were on our own," Luna summarized wisely after watching where her friend's wandering gaze landed. "I could ask Daddy to help us if you want. He's brilliant. Would you like me too?"

"No...," Ginny thought slowly, "he probably wouldn't approve of what I want to do either."

"How fun! Something sneaky I hope. I've always wanted to do something sneaky. But when it's just Daddy and I there isn't much point to it."

"Not really sneaky, it just that I have to find a green door and I think it's in the house that those people live in."

Ginny pointed to the walrus looking man and his horse faced wife that they had been eavesdropping on earlier from their hiding place in the bush. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley were standing at the gate along with the boy in the straw boater hat and too-tight knickerbockers. They were greeting guests as they came into the garden in an attempt to also win the 'people's choice' award trophy.

"Those are the people Daddy was interviewing earlier. Why don't we just go and ask them where it is?" Luna started forward only to have Ginny pull her back by her hair.

"Luna we can't! That's the problem... first of all I don't think they would want me to find it – they are er… hiding it from me. And secondly, Mummy made my brothers and me promise not to talk to the muggles and to never be alone with them. I thought if I could just get into their house when they were out here in the garden, then I could find the door for myself."

Luna tilted her head thoughtfully before replying, "I didn't promise. Wait here!" Then she walked straight up to the Dursley's, pulled on Mrs. Dursley's arm to get her attention, started to hop from one foot then the other then finished with a crossed-knees shimmy.

At first Ginny had no idea what Luna was doing but then she recognized steps of the universal loo dance. What woman could be so cold hearted as to deny a little girl in desperate need? Not even Petunia Dursley could, and sure enough within a blink of an eye she was opening the front door for Luna with admonishments to 'hurry up and not make a mess - that she wasn't running a public toilet' and to 'be sure to close the door tight behind when she left'.

As soon as Petunia turned her back on the house and returned to guest greeting duty, Luna cracked the door open and signalled for Ginny. Ginny looked right and left, seeing the coast clear she sprinted across the yard. In a flash of bright blond curls she was onto the porch and through the door.

The movement of the door closing seemed to create a vacuum that sucked all the air out of the house as it swung shut solidly behind them. Ginny and Luna looked at each other with huge startled eyes - it was as if they had entered another world and now that they were inside, they were almost afraid to move. Other than a rhythmic snoring coming from the upper level, the house was unnaturally quiet.

It was Luna who finally broke the silence first. "What are we looking for again?"

"A green door, it's under the stairs somewhere... there! I see it!" Ginny pointed down the long hallway in front of her, flanked on one side by a staircase leading to the top floor, and on the other by an archway into the very formal looking living room. Besides the archway there were only four opening into the hall - the front door they had just come through, a door straight ahead, a door opposite the stairs, and a small door underneath the highest part of the stairs. It was for this last one that Ginny headed.

She stopped in front of the small door and took a deep breath. The door was painted white with just the faintest of green tint to coordinate with the ornate wallpaper covering the walls of both sides of the hallway. Okay so it wasn't very green, but was it green enough? It just had to be, and Christopher Robin just had to be behind it!

Yanking it open she jumped back when a cascade of mop handles, broomsticks, and buckets toppled out. When the clatter stopped the girls both simultaneously looked up and held their breath until the next loud snore indicating they hadn't woken up whoever was sleeping upstairs. They both heaved a sigh of relief and then started picking up the mess.

"Is this what we're looking for?" Luna whispered inspecting one of the brooms closely. It was bright yellow with moulded plastic bristles. "My dad has a Cleansweep. He says stick with tried and true, and it will never make you blue. This one doesn't look like it could fly very well. But it is lightweight so who knows. Maybe it's a new prototype or something?"

"No, that's not it. It's just a silly muggle broom. Besides, I'm looking for a who not a what," Ginny replied back grabbing it out of her hands and shoving it and everything else back in as quickly as she could, her disappointment making her voice sound gruff.

"Did I say something wrong?" Luna asked with large tears welling up in her eyes. She didn't have many friends - okay none - and while she was comfortable enough around adults, she had always felt slightly awkward around other kids her age.

"Not at all," she reassured her. "I'm just frustrated… but you won't understand."

"I might."

Ginny took a chance and explained to her about the not-so-imaginary friend she was looking for.

"I do understand, I used to have lots of friends like that, but now I have a new friend," Luna said shyly smiling hopefully at Ginny.

"But it wasn't the right door. I was so sure..." Ginny said all her attention focused on her quest.

"Well, there seems to be plenty more. Why don't we split up and look behind them all?" Luna suggested.

"Great idea! We can do it twice as fast that way! Why don't you try upstairs and I'll try the rest of the doors down here. We'll meet back here in five minutes. But be really quiet okay? Don't wake up whoever is up there unless it is a boy. That's who were looking for."

"Okay," Luna agreed affably and went back down the hallway to turn and go up the staircase. She still had no idea exactly who they were looking for but she was more than willing to help look anyway to be friends with Ginny.

Ginny sighed and opened the door across from the one she had just tried. It was a small powder room. Then she tried the one at the end of the hall. It led to the kitchen with a dining room beyond. Across the kitchen she spotted another door. Behind it was a staircase which led downwards. Glancing behind her she slipped through the door and tiptoed down the stairs, leaving the door open to afford her some light in the very dark basement.

Reaching the bottom she was disappointed not to find another cupboard, but all she saw under the stairs were piles of broken toys. Across the room there were some baskets of dirty clothes sitting atop some large white metal boxes that were standing next to a deep laundry sink. Those must be what muggles use to wash their clothes she thought opening the lid of one and looking in. She remembered her dad describing the machines once - he had confiscated some from a place called a Laundromat that had been charmed to dye anything washed in it purple. They were interesting, but not what she was searching for. In the far corner was a squat metal silver octopus with round metal tentacles rising from it that spread out all over the unfinished ceiling. She wasn't sure what it was but glad it wasn't moving.

She was about to head back up to the kitchen when she spotted one more door in the corner across from the metal octopus. Creeping across the shadowy basement she tripped over a stack of old board games sending the pieces scattering. Ginny froze as the dice tumbled to a stop. Her own heavy breathing was all she heard. She had little hope of finding Christopher Robin now but she tried the last door anyway. It was locked so Ginny rapped on the door.

"Psst! Christopher Robin are you in there?" she asked almost dreading for the answer to be yes. She put her ear to the door and listened. The answering silence was ominous. It was as if the darkness in the basement devoured all sounds and was hungry for more. Ginny shuddered as a ripple of fear ran down her spine. She had to get out of here!

Racing across the floor to the stairs she scrambled up them and didn't stop until she was back in the hallway. Sinking down on the floor she sat cross-legged with her back against the wall across from the staircase, panting with fear and staring at the wallpaper while she waited for Luna.

"Is this who you were looking for?" Luna asked coming down the stairs a moment later with a chubby bulldog lolling in her arms while she stroked his ears. A long stream of drool extending from his tongue half way to the floor. Ripper was in doggy heaven. Ginny didn't answer her so Luna sat down next to her still petting the dog.

"Why did you bring that dog down here?" she finally asked.

"He's a boy. You were looking for a boy. I found one. Aren't you happy?" Luna would do anything to make her new friend happy.

Ginny sighed. She knew Luna was just trying to help.

"I'm not unhappy, that just isn't the boy I am looking for."

"Oh... I guess I better put him back where I found him then," Luna got up and disappeared back up the stairs.

Ginny felt bad for hurting Luna's feeling and apologized when she came back.

"I'm sorry I was a bit snippy, I do appreciate you helping me Luna. But I guess we better leave now." However as Ginny said it without making any motion whatsoever to get up and leave, Luna sat back down beside her and waited for her to talk. It didn't take long.

"I just wish I had found the green door. If it's not here ,I don't know where else to look for it."

"Why don't you think it's here?"

"I opened all of them I found except for one in the basement."

"Why didn't you open that one too?"

"It was locked. I used to think that anything was possible if I had enough nerve to try. But I guess not," Ginny replied tiredly.

"How about if you had a key instead of nerve - would that work?

"What do you mean?"

"This," Luna said simply and pulled a small key out of her pocket and dropped it in Ginny's hand.

"Where did you find that?"

"Out in the grass when I was helping your brother. When you are close to the ground you see things others don't," she said wisely.

Ginny laughed and hugged Luna. "I'll go try it! Wait here!" She was through the kitchen, down the stairs, and half way across the basement before she regretted not bringing Luna with her. The basement was just as murky as before only this time the looming piles of junk seemed a lot taller and closer.

"I have nerve, I have nerve, I have nerve," Ginny chanted as she crossed to the door to try the key. It was far too small to fit the lock. She didn't know whether to be relieved or not. Either way there was nothing she could do so she returned to the hall and flopped back down next to Luna. Both girls sitting with the back to the wall and arms wrapped around their knees.

"Well?"

"It didn't fit. It was too little."

'Maybe it will fit that one then," Luna suggested pointing at the blank wall in front of them.

"Fit what?"

"The lock to the green door."

"But we tried that one, and besides it didn't have a lock."

"Oh not that one, the other green door."

"What other one?"

"Can't you see it? I can," Luna said with such a faraway look in her eyes that Ginny had to wonder if her friend was hallucinating.

"See what?" Ginny asked exasperated.

"The green door."

"Just the one down there by the kitchen."

"No look, what do you see right there?" Luna asked pointing again to the blank wall in front of them.

"I see wallpaper and it's kind of hideous if you ask me."

"What else? Look at it closely."

"Okay," Ginny sighed and stared at the wallpaper. "I see ugly yellow flowers on top of ugly blue stripes with little rust coloured polka-dots."

"I don't think you can count the polka-dots."

"Why not? They are ugly too," Ginny shrugged.

"Because I don't think they are supposed to be there."

"Why aren't they?"

"Because they aren't in the rest of the hall, just this part."

"Wow, Luna you're right. I don't think I would have noticed that. You are really observant."

Luna laughed lightly, highly pleased at the compliment. "Thanks, but that's not all I saw. Look again."

"At what?"

"When Daddy took me hunting for blibbering humdingers he told me that they like to hide in plain sight because that would be the last place you'd look for them."

"What are you talking about?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Not really."

"That's where the green door is. All you have to do is open your eyes and look. It's right in front of us."

Ginny peeked at Luna out of the corner of her eye just to make sure she didn't look like she was teasing her. Nope. She looked very serious. So Ginny gave Luna's suggestion one more try. Luna was staring at the wall in front of her so Ginny did too. When she ignored the out of place polka-dots what she had left was a swirl of yellow and blue. The more she stared at it the more it swirled together until she realized that the yellow wasn't really yellow but pale chartreuse, and the blue wasn't really blue but a deep turquoise. They both had a greenish cast to them which was why the pale green paint of the woodwork coordinated so well. If you were terribly near-sided she could see where the colours would mix into an awful green.

Looking at the wall with a new eye she could now see how the baseboard had length about two feet long where it didn't quite meet the floor as the rest of it in the hallway did. Having watched her dad fix things around the house she thought it odd that the carpenter would have stuck in a small piece that didn't quite fit right in the middle of the run of millwork. The decorator also didn't match up the wallpaper quite right. Not that she was any judge of wallpapering, but seeing as Mrs. Dursley seemed to like everything to be absolutely perfect in her garden she wondered why she let the workmen get away with less than perfect work inside her house. For the seams of the wallpaper had been position so that they matched up to where the short piece of baseboard butted up against the longer lengths. All that did in her opinion was draw attention to the two perpendicular seams running up the wall to where they ended at another short piece of millwork slantwise under the edge of the stair.

Ginny's eyes traced the outline of the abnormal workmanship. Across - up - across - down - back to the start and all over again in an oddly shaped rectangle. All of a sudden she could see it as plain as day. The outline of the green door! It was right smack in front of her!

"You see it too, don't you?" Luna asked in a quiet voice.

"Yes!" Ginny breathed. "But..."

"But what?"

"How do we open it? There isn't a doorknob."

"Maybe not, but there is a lock," Luna said pointed at a very small silver lock on a hasp tucked in the shadow of the stair overhang, crossing at the top of the shorter right-hand perpendicular seam.

"Oh my! And it looks the right size for the key you found!" Ginny knelt in front of the door and fumbled with the lock trying to fit the key, but her fingers were shaking so hard she dropped it. The little key hit point first causing it to bounce down the hallway, coming to a stop at the foot of the heavyset blond boy that they had seen earlier at the buffet table. He hadn't been happy to see them then, and he didn't seem any happier now.

Ginny moved to pick up the key and Dudley put his foot over it.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" he snarled rudely.

"We were just using the loo," Luna replied standing up too.

"You've used it already so get out of my house."

"We er... have permission to be in here," Ginny said trying to stall, linking arms with Ginny to show a solid front.

"Had - as in past tense, you dummy. Mum sent me to roust you out. Said you were taking too long. But she said there was only one of you," Dudley added suspiciously.

"There is only one. One of me," Luna said pointing at herself, "and one of her", pointing at Ginny.

"I don't care if you're a dozen. Mum says you have to leave, so you have to leave."

"Then why did you ask?"

"I didn't, so scram!"

"I won't until you give me back my key," Ginny said stubbornly not willing to leave.

"What key? I don't see no key," Dudley taunted her.

"You did too! You stepped on it," Ginny countered.

"Prove it!"

'_I have nerve, I have nerve,' _Ginny chanted in her mind as she flung herself at the boy trying to knock him off his feet, but he just laughed and shoved her back. She would have landed hard if Luna hadn't been right behind her to break her fall. As it was they ended up in a jumble of legs and arms. Unable to prevent it, Ginny saw Dudley pick up the little key.

"That's mine!"

"Doesn't look like yours, no name on it, and it was in my house so it's mine now," he said turning it over in his hand. He recognized it instantly and knew exactly what it opened, but how did the girls get a hold of it when the last time he saw it, it was going into his dad's pocket? "What'd you do? Steal it?"

"No I didn't! Luna gave it to me."

"What'd she do? Steal it?"

"I found it!" Luna spoke up.

"Where?"

"Outside in the grass."

"Everything outside belongs to me too," he said with a smirk and slipped it into his pocket. "Better get out of here fast before I have you arrested!"

As he escorted them out the front door, Ginny glanced back at the green door longingly. The outline that had stood out so prominently just minutes before seemed to melt back into the wallpaper pattern until it all but vanished. Having grown up with six older brothers she could normally handle anything, but this time she couldn't help herself - she burst into tears.

"Hey! Let go of them!" Ron called out angrily seeing the blond boy dragging his little sister and her friend out of the house roughly, and tears in Ginny's eyes. "Ginny are you okay?"

"I'm okay Ron. This boy just didn't like us in the house even though we had permission from his mum and everything!" Ginny answered stretching the truth a tad bit in her favour.

"That's a laugh!" Dudley snorted shoving the two ahead of him and closing the door solidly behind him. "Found 'em inside trying to rob us."

"Was not!" Ginny yelled at him, wiping away the tears, more angry now that anything else.

"Was too!" Dudley yelled back.

"C'mon Ginny. Get your friend and let's get out of here. Remember what Mum said," he prodded at her reluctance to give up when she was so close.

Ginny rolled her eyes, but followed him anyway. Luna trailing behind, still just happy to be included in whatever they were doing. As soon as they were around the corner of the house and out of earshot Ron turned on his sister and demanded answers.

"Now give Ginny! What's up? Mum made us promise to never be alone with them. What do you two think you were doing in their house?"

"You're just as bad as that boy!" Ginny sniffed. "I didn't do anything wrong. Luna hadn't promised so she asked to go in, and that lady let her, and then she let me. That was all there was too it. We were about to leave when that boy came in and started yelling at us."

"Why would he yell at you if his Mum let you in?"

"Well... I guess we were kind of... looking around, and he caught us."

"Looking around for what?"

"A green door... and I think I found it Ron!"

"Is this the same door you made Fred and George ransack our house looking for?"

"Maybe... why?" Ginny said stubbing the toe of her shoe in the grass and trying to look innocent.

"Why? Because Percy made me finish cleaning up your mess! That's why!"

"Thank you Ron..." she said softly hanging her head and sniffling.

Ron looked at his baby sister so sad, and got all over being angry. "I'm sorry I yelled at you I didn't mean it. C'mon Ginny, smile again okay? Pretty please?"

"Okay, I will as long as you help us get back in," she smiled, immediately perky again.

Luna watched the exchange between the brother and sister as fascinated as if she was watching a pair of crumple-horned snorkacks in their natural habitat.

"No way am I going anywhere near that house!" Ron said backing up.

"Pleeeeasssse? And help me pick a lock? I know the twins showed you how."

"But there are spiders in there! I saw them when I was looking for... well never mind what I was looking for - the point is a whole trail of them headed right through the grass and inside. They have it in for me I tell you!"

'_Ron's pin! That's what he was looking for! If I give it back to him I'm sure he'll help!' _Ginny felt in her pocket but only found a hole in the corner. The pin was gone. _'I should have taken Mum up on those sewing lessons, instead of playing Quidditch' _she thought ruefully.

"Why do you think that?" Luna asked Ron curious. She always thought spiders to be quite useful and not malevolent at all.

"Because as they marched by, they were staring at me with all eight of their eyes!"

"That's eight legs you dimwit," Percy said coming up behind them. "I'd feel better if you would all come with me to find the twins. I need to round everybody up. I'm supposed to be in charge and I can't do that if you keep scattering all over the place," he griped.

Ginny's heart sank as they followed Percy. She might have been able to persuade Ron to help, if only she still had the pin to pay him with, but there was no way she would be able to convince her very rule loving older brother to break any of them. And now she had a dilemma on her hands. If she told Percy that Dad and Mum had already ordered her to go back to Mrs. Figg's she'd never have a chance to get back into the house. But if she didn't tell him, it would be tantamount to lying. She didn't like lying, but what other choice did she really have? No one except for Luna was taking her seriously, and with the perpetual dreamy look on Luna's face no one would her either.

On the other side of the garden Dudley Dursley had a dilemma on his hands as well. On one hand, he loved his parents, but on the other hand, he hated what he knew they were going to do once the Fete was over. Dudley disliked dilemmas with a passion. He wasn't very good at them. They took way too much thought and he really didn't like thinking all that much.

He had been in front greeting guests and waiting for his friends to show up, when he had 'accidentally' overheard his parent's conversation. Even though they hadn't mentioned a name he knew they were grousing about Boy (no big surprise there), and blaming him entirely for this lame Fete. The later was even less of a surprise although Dudley thought it was still a stretch as his parents were already famous around the neighbourhood for being the King and Queen of horridly dull parties. Dudley started to think 'ho-hum how many times have I've heard all this before?' when he realized that this time there was something different about what he was hearing - for two people who loved to hear themselves talk, his parents were conversing in a whole lot less words than they normally did. His mum simply demanding that his dad 'finally do what you promised to do', and his dad answering her in only two grim words, 'I will'. Dudley knew that this time they meant it - and what they meant was they were going to get rid of Boy once and for all.

After his gang arrived they had all headed directly for the food, but they found those stupid identical pig-pimples still there lording it over his spread. This time however it was his five against their two. But even with the odds on his side this time, the gang had soon retreated to the garden shed. Those twins just didn't seem fazed by anything they threw at them. Piers pulled out a cigarette and they took turns passing it around while they regrouped.

"Hey fellas - Mum said she'd take us all to the cinema and treat us to burgers after," Dudley mentioned taking a seat on a stack of crates.

"Can't Big D," Piers turned down the invitation, "Dad's picking my mum and me up in about an hour."

"An hour?" Dudley pouted, "but the Fete won't be over yet!" He only hoped the rest of his pals weren't going to desert him too.

"They're taking me shopping for my school uniform. Today is the only day Dad can drive us up to the city," Piers shrugged and then couldn't resist sending a little dig his friends way. "Of course it won't be as snazzy as yours Dudley - no stick."

"Yeah, the Smelting stick is the best part of it," Dudley agreed twirling it once and then pretending to bash someone's head in with it to show it off. As his friends all complimented him appropriately, Dudley thought about them. They had grown up together. Sure he could trust them to back him up in a pinch, but how much could he trust them with a real problem?

"What would you do if someone you knew was about to do something that might get them into trouble?"

"Ha-ha! Sell tickets!" Dennis snickered making the other all laugh.

"No, I mean for real. What would you do?"

"Like what Big D? Us tromping those gits? I don't see no trouble there except for them," Piers bragged foolishly as 'the gits' he mentioned had already given worse than they got.

"Er kind of... but I mean real trouble - with the law."

"Like jail?" Malcolm frowned and passed the cig to Gordon. "Don't know. Guess I would say steer clear of 'em until the heat was off."

"Wouldn't you try to stop them before they did it?" Dudley pressed, really wanting their opinions without telling them the family secret.

"Oh I know what you're talking about! And don't you dare!" Dennis jumped up from his seat on a bag of fertilizer and pointed an accusatory finger at Dudley.

"What's that Den?" Piers asked crooking an eyebrow at his normally tight lipped friend.

"I heard my parent's talking last night. Dudley got into trouble and he and his parents have to go to court next week. He's going to rat us out to get himself off easy!"

"NO I'M NOT! I had the chance to do that already and I didn't say a word about any of you. That's not it," Dudley protested. While his friends hadn't helped at all, they did give him an idea. The policemen had said he should tell them if anything was troubling him and they'd do their best to help him and said he wouldn't get into trouble. He wondered if that immunity extended to his parents. Because while he couldn't tell the police about the freak, because he had already committed murder, maybe he could tell them about his parents, since they hadn't yet.

"Then what is it?" Gordon asked curious passing him the end of the cigarette.

Dudley was saved from replying when they heard voices coming from the other side of the wall. "Shuddit! I hear something..."

All the boys went quiet, in fear that it was their parents about to catch them smoking.

"Why should I take your advice Albus? You haven't exactly got a sterling track record there!" a man's voice said derisively.

"It saddens me as much as you what I had to say, but what would you have had me do? Not tell the truth? Let James and Lily's betrayer roam free?" a second older sounding man replied sadly.

"_Let's get out of here before they find us..."_ Piers hissed at the others.

"_Quiet! I want to hear this," _Dudley hissed back. _'Albus? James and Lily? A betrayer?' _ Dudley put his ear to the wooden planks of the wall and listened harder. He knew those names! Albus must be Albus Dumbledore - the man from the prison who came once a month to make sure the Freak was still locked up in the cupboard under the stairs. And James and Lily were the parents the Freak killed. So the betrayer must be the Freak himself.

"They say the truth will set you free, but I don't see how it worked so well in this case."

"Alas, I cannot change the facts my boy, as much as I would like to."

"So you truly believe he deserves to rot in Azkaban for the rest of his life?"

"I greatly wish it were not so, but without compelling evidence to the contrary - yes. You must understand, during those dark times the act he committed was considered by the court as heinous as the crime itself. The betrayer and the murderer are equally guilty, as they had equal intent as to the outcome."

"I understand nothing of the kind you self-righteous sanctimonious..."

Dudley shuddered and didn't want to stay to hear the rest.

"C'mon! I've heard enough. Let's go show those kids just who's turf this is."While the rest of the gang piled out of the shed and headed for the war zone, Dudley lagged behind savouring the remainder of the cigarette.

'_Azkaban?'_ He had heard his parents mention that place too, that was the prison the Freak would go to if anyone ever found out about him being there. And that Dumbledore man said that the law would consider his parents as good as guilty already because of their intent. There was NO way he could go to the police now! He certainly didn't want to see his parents locked up in Azkaban! Dudley dropped the butt on the dirt ground of the shed and put out the last ember under the heel of his trainer. Time to go find his gang, but first he had a small detour to take.

Easing the front door open, he tiptoed quietly into the house. Stopping, he glanced around furtively.

Nothing stirred.

Not a sound.

Good! Those pesky girls hadn't come back.

His first stop was the kitchen where he fished a butter knife out of the cutlery drawer. Then he sneaked back to the living room where he used it to jimmy the lock on his dad's desk. Pulling open the middle drawer he reached in felt around until his hand clamped down on a cold long piece of metal. He pocketed it quickly.

With one more fleeting look around to make sure he was alone, he then headed quickly for the stairs and started towards the only noise that could be heard in the otherwise silent house; loud snoring coming from an upstairs bedroom. It was really only her dog Ripper he was concerned about as his Aunt Mage could sleep through anything.

Stealthily he took the stairs with a grace that those who knew him intimately would deny he possessed. Even as the stairs woke form their own slumber with creaks and groans, Marge and Ripper slept on. Completing the ascent, he entered the upstairs hall and pausing once again to listen, catching his breath as he realized his Aunt was no longer snoring and a low growl was coming from behind him.

He looked down and saw Ripper about to chomp down on his ankle. When Dudley growled back and bared his teeth at the bulldog, Ripper howled and ran back into Marge's bedroom with his tail between his legs. Sure that the dog would wake up his aunt, Dudley was about to beat a strategically retreat, when her low rumbling started up once again. Relief at hearing the sounds surged through him as he continued on his journey down the ever lengthening hallway.

Reaching his ultimate destination without being detected, he surreptitiously slipped through the last doorway on the left and deftly stepped over the booby traps and hazards that littered the floor on the way to his target. Most looking would just think it was a messy room. However each pile of toys had been strategically placed. Stopping one last time to listen, he was reassured by the sounds coming from the room next door. Reaching under the bed, he pulled out a metal lunch box hidden there, and pried open the lid, discarding the cheap lock as it broke in two in his haste to open it.

There is was - the answer to his dilemma he thought satisfied. The one thing he knew of that would get Boy out of their lives once and for all. He had liberated it over a year ago and, as his dad had never noticed it gone, the passage of time had made it his. Scooping out the contents he stuffed it resolutely in his pocket along with his earlier prize then snapped the lid closed with a small audible click. He hated to have to use it but the time had come. After replacing the box in its original spot, he retraced his steps and silently left the house.

Aunt Marge snored on, oblivious.

By the time he got to the buffet table his gang was already in an argument with the opposition. His friend Piers leading the standoff against an older boy who had joined the annoying twins, the stupid girls, and the kid with the insatiable mouth. Although this new kid was being patronizing, he wasn't putting up as much of a fight as the others had. It was more like he was trying to placate Piers, which served to provoke Piers all the more.

Percy was doing his best to act as peacemaker between his siblings and the gang of muggle boys. In particular he wanted to calm down the shortest boy among them, who with his wiry stature and black hair matched one of the descriptions his parent had given them of the two boys they were looking for. And now seeing a heavyweight blond boy headed their way, and comparing the two side-by-side, he was convinced he had found them. Trust his brothers to have the pair right under their long hooked snape-noses and not pull them out of their experiment long enough to notice. But if he could deliver the boys into the hands of the Headmaster, then it would be he, Percy Weasley, who would finally get the attention and appreciation he deserved!

However he must proceed carefully. He remembered his mother telling them that the dark haired boy was small for his age and that he should call him 'little one' if he wanted to make friends. Percy eyed the boy up and down. The belligerent black haired boy in front of him didn't seem all that shorter than the rest - maybe only a few centimetres at best, but who else could it be? She said one was larger and blond - that was definitely the fat kid, and one was smaller and black haired. Percy looked around and found no other who fit the description. Percy shrugged. The kid didn't seem that frightened to him but a promise was a promise - especially to Mum.

"Now now there, little one, calm down and don't be afraid. I'm here to help you," Percy announced in his practiced Prefect tone, only to be immediately tackled violently by one very incensed black haired boy.

"Don't call me that! I am NOT little! And I am NOT afraid of a git like you!" Piers yelled as he sat on the older boy's chest and pummelled him for all he was worth. George and Fred, feeling uncharacteristically brotherly at that moment, hauled the pint-sized assailant off from their brother and hauled Percy upright again.

"Shy my foot!" Percy howled while trying to regain his decorum.

"And I'm NOT shy either!"

"You don't say," George laughed.

"Yes he does, and so do I," Dudley said backing up his friend. "You guys better get out of here before I tell Mum you ate all the food!"

"Ooo were quaking in our boots," Fred laughed and then picked up a frosted brownie and took a large bite and rubbed his tummy to taunt them.

"You ought to be," Gordon said seriously. "Dudley's mum is positively mental when it comes to her buffets."

"She won a ribbon once," Dennis added just as seriously as if that explained everything.

When it looked as if the twins were about to stir the pot some more Percy leaned over and whispered urgently in Fred's ear and then went in search of his parents. Fred first listened, then squinted his eyes at the gang of boys, then turned and whispered in George's ear. George shook his head no, then Fred whispered some more. George squinted his eyes at the boys too before nodding in agreement. They had to admit Percy was right - if you looked at them just right two of these boys did look like they could be the ones their parents warned them about, and besides they were out of ingredients for their experiments anyway. Discretion being the better part of valour, especially when it came to muggles, they decided to back down - for now.

"You win," George announced to Dudley's gang and left to follow Percy. "C'mon Fred, let's go."

"You too, small fry," Fred said to Ron and the girls indicting they should leave as well.

"And don't come back!" Dudley called out sticking out his tongue at their retreating backs for good measure. "Way to go Piers, you really showed them what's what!"

"Yeah! Who'd they think died and made them king anyway?" Piers agreed as he handed out plates full of sweet treats to the other boys.

Dudley sighed at the seeming inconsequential question and stuffed a forkful of cheesecake topped with a tangy raspberry coulis into his mouth. It wasn't a matter of who had already died, but who was about to. Right or wrong his parents were going to make Boy pay it being a flop, and they going to go overboard doing it. As the treat started to melt on his tongue, his agitation over his quandary turned the creamy sweetness into an unpalatable paste. Having lost his appetite, something that rarely happened, he made his decision. He patted the objects in his pocket to reassure himself he'd made the right one. He would just have to steel his nerve do what he knew had to be done. Why postpone the inevitable? It was best for everyone to just get it over with, and be done with it. The sooner the better he thought. There was no point in stewing about it any longer. It was time to take action.

Dudley realized his parents weren't going to be pleased with him when they found out - his mum because she would be worried that Boy had somehow contaminated him - his dad because he seemed to get off on punishing Boy and what Dudley planned to do would deny him of that pleasure. Nevertheless, if he didn't do something right now, his parents were sure to get into trouble, then what would happen to his family? Maybe they weren't the best parents in the world, but they were the only ones he had. If he had to protect them from themselves, he would. After all, they do say that you can't please everyone and this was one time his parents would just have to suck it up and deal with it as Dudley Dursley had his mind made up.

Committed to action, Dudley tossed out the remainder of the dessert, stuffed his pockets with rich butter-laded croissants and shrewdly assessed the abilities of his gang. While Dudley himself wasn't the sharpest pencil in the box, his pals more than made up for any of his shortcomings in the disciplines of plotting and planning. Together they had pulled off some rather risky ventures and had not been caught yet, and he didn't plan on getting caught this time either.

Dudley reckoned that you couldn't technically include his current trouble with the law as 'getting caught' as they hadn't really caught him, he had stupidly sacrificed himself and hadn't even gotten a measly 'thank you' for it from any of them. But still he had their back, and they had his. He knew without even asking that they would help him. He also reasoned that since he was only eleven, and so underage, there wasn't much the Police would do to him this time either, even if they did pin it on him. He might be sentenced to a few years in St. Brutus Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys, but they certainly wouldn't send him to prison for the rest of his life as they would his parents.

Sometimes it paid to be a 'misunderstood high spirited creative intelligent child', he snickered. Those types always got away with murder.


	43. So you've got to please yourself

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Note to the readers from Arwen: Okay about the chapters, here's what happened. DD has been revising all her old chapters based on some feedback she has gotten along the way, nothing drastic and no plot changers, but the actual number of chapters ended up different. She wrote all these long explanations and apologies that I was supposed to post to take the place of the four missing chapter numbers (they aren't really missing they just got combined) but I deleted them instead. So my bad and you can blame me for it. So for those of you who tried to post a review on her newest chapter and couldn't because it was a reused chapter number, either send her a PM or use one of the earlier chapters to post it. Now back to DD…

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, typed and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Reference to severe child abuse. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Saturday afternoon, August 3rd, 1991

**Chapter 43 – I went to a Garden Party**

**Part Four: So you've got to please yourself**

Christopher Robin rubbed his arms to ward against the chill in the air as he walked through The Hundred Acre Wood. It seemed so empty. Whenever he'd been here before, The Wood had been alive with happy buzzing and flitting and tweeting and hallooing - now it was as silent as Boy himself. Not even his footsteps echoed as he walked down the path.

The absolute silence made the slight chill ominous. Perhaps the fire had done more damage than Gopher and Piglet had told him about. Christopher Robin shivered at the thought of his only happy place merging with his unhappy place. To stop it from happening he sat down on a big flattop rock under a pine tree, put his hands over his eyes, and counted loudly to ten.

That normally worked for Pooh.

"One … and two … and three … and four … and five … and six … and seven … and eight … and nine … and …" Christopher Robin took a deep breath and shouted out "…TEN!" Uncovering his eyes, he looked around optimistically. His face immediately fell in disappointment.

The Wood was still devoid of sound.

Where had everyone gone?

Could they have already left for Hogwarts?

In his heart of hearts, Christopher Robin had hoped to find his friends one last time to say a proper goodbye. Only a moment ago, he had barely enough energy to curl up in a ball on his rough wooden floor, and as he fell asleep, he truly expected it to be for the last time. In his delirium, he felt comforted - as if some unseen hand had tenderly tucked him in and then he unexpectedly woke up refreshed under the familiar trees of the Wood on a soft springy cushion of pine needles.

He supposed the strong feeling he had felt right before passing out, of his friends all being nearby, _could_ have just been his imagination. On second thought, he had to laugh at that absurd assumption. He knew he possessed as little imagination as he possessed of anything else, The Family wouldn't have had it any other way so it couldn't have been that - therefore his friends must be here somewhere. He just had to keep looking.

Standing back up he dusted off the seat of his blue shorts and headed into the deepest part of the wood where Owl's home was high in a leafy tree. Climbing up the trunk, he knocked on the door.

The sound of his rapping retuned only a hollow echo, but the repetitive action caused the door to swing open without warning. Climbing inside hopefully, Christopher Robin's eyes searched the lofty home for his feathered friend. An easy task as about the only thing left was Owl's very large packed trunk sitting in the middle of the room. Dejected, he sat down on it and let out a soft sigh.

Looking around at the empty walls and bookshelves, it appeared to Christopher Robin that Owl was moving out permanently - not just for the school year. Once the trunk was gone, the house would be quite empty. The bees had done a very thorough job with a small storybook left lying abandoned on a shelf the only thing they neglected to pack. Christopher Robin rescued it and stuffed it inside the very full trunk. Feeling helpful, he was sure Owl would be pleased to see it once he got to Hogwarts.

Christopher Robin highly doubted Owl would be back to pick up the trunk knowing how he preferred to be the one in charge giving the orders, rather than doing anything himself. In fact, Owl had probably already arranged for the bees to transport the trunk to Hogwarts for him. He sighed again as he realized he'd missed his opportunity to say goodbye.

With shoulders slightly lower than when he arrived, Christopher Robin climbed back down the tree. Jumping the last metre to the ground to land on two feet, he left Owl's and followed the path through the woods, across the stream, past the grove of aspens where the woozle and wizzle wasn't (after checking again just to make sure they still weren't), and then on to Piglet's neat-as-a-pin house.

This time he didn't bother to knock when he arrived, as the door was already ajar. Entering, Christopher Robin stood in the centre of Piglet's home jaw dropping open in surprise at what he saw. Not only was the normally tidy house, anything but tidy, everywhere he looked there were feathers covering each and every surface. It had to have been the work of the woozle and wizzle hunting for hunny! They were always doing frightening things like this. He estimated that he couldn't have missed them by much as there were still feathers floating in the air. One landed lightly on Christopher Robin's nose causing him to sneeze and sending a storm of the downy flotsam cascading off the nearest table and onto the floor in a slow motion wave.

Piglet would have a fit!

Grabbing a broom, Christopher Robin made quick work of the fluffy mess. After sweeping the feathers into a pile, he shoved them back into the torn pillow from whence they came, and then stitched it closed with Piglet's handy sewing kit. With a satisfied sigh, Christopher Robin sat down on Piglet's bed and looked around the once more neat-as-a-pin room and thought Piglet would be pleased.

Swinging his legs while he waited for his little pink friend to return, the back of his heels hit something hard under the bed. Oh no! Did he break something? Getting down on hands and knees, he was dismayed to see that what he kicked was Piglet's trunk, tucked neatly away and awaiting the trip to Hogwarts. From the bulging lid he had no doubt but what it was also packed.

What if Piglet had already left, and that the bees were going to take his trunk to Hogwarts along with the one belonging to Owl? That would explain why Piglet wasn't here and why he hadn't cleaned up after the feathery fracas himself.

With a cloud of gloom starting to gather overhead, Christopher Robin left Piglets house, after making sure the door was shut tight, and wandered on up the path, jumping two-footed over the trap Pooh had set for the Heffalumps, and weaving back and forth through the six pines trees to end up at Pooh's front door.

"Halloo Pooh! Are you at home? It's Christopher Robin come to visit!" he called out trying to be optimistic.

However, no matter how much halloing he did in the window - Pooh just didn't answer. When he saw that Pooh's trunk was still in the corner standing on its side, just as empty as the Hunny jars spilling out of it haphazardly, a relieved smile lit up his face. There was a jumble of books, clothes, and other curious things, strewn willy-nilly around the room. At least Pooh was leaving his packing to the last minute!

Oh NO! Pooh was leaving packing to the last minute!

"Pooh! Pooh! Pooh! What I am I ever going to do with you - you silly old bear?" Christopher Robin laughed and climbed in the window knowing Pooh wouldn't mind a helping hand. Righting the trunk, he pulled out the sticky jars and took them to the sink where he washed them before setting them out to dry on the step. Then he organized Pooh's stacks of things to make it easy for him to pack - clothes neatly folded in one stack, books in order of size and colour in another, and the curious things in the last.

Christopher Robin fingered the curious objects and wondered what Pooh was going to use them for at Hogwarts. There was a pair of big heavy gloves made up of a slick scaly material. He couldn't imagine Pooh's little paws fitting in them, although he could see himself putting them to VERY good use – they would certainly save his hands when he was pulling up thistles in Ma'am's garden! However, they weren't his. Maybe Pooh could use them as boots.

In the pile there were also some fluffy earmuffs and long tube with a glass on either end. Trying the earmuffs on for size and looking through the tube and out the window, Christopher Robin was surprised to see that with it he could see all the way to the Bee Tree in the middle of the Merry Meadow! He dropped the tube back on the stack lest the bees saw him back and came after him thinking he wanted their hunny. Come to think of it, that was probably why Pooh had the looking through tube - so he would know when the bees left their tree. Hm … maybe it wasn't something for Hogwarts after all.

Hm … the rest of the items were comprised of packets of dried herbs, vials of oils, and a heavy iron pot. As Pooh was never much of one to cook anything other than hunny bread, hunny biscuits, and hunny buns, Christopher Robin shrugged and wondered what in the world Pooh was going to do with them. There must be some reason he thought, so he carefully rearranged the packets and vials until they all fit inside the iron pot - that way Pooh wouldn't accidentally forget any of them. Surveying the tidy piles now ready for packing, he thought Pooh would be very pleased that he wouldn't have to do it all himself.

Speaking of Pooh … just where was the silly old bear? From the looks of the rumpled blankets on the bed, Pooh had slept in and then left in a hurry. Christopher Robin sighed - he just wasn't having any luck at all at finding his friends. What he had to do was think!

Christopher Robin went outside, sat down next to the drying hunny pots on the sunny front step, and thought hard about where they might be.

What if they went to …? Um … no …

Maybe they were at …? Er … probably not …

Hey! Maybe Pooh had gone to Kanga's! Sure! He might needed to borrow some hunny since his was all gone. All the getting-ready-to-pack had probably made him very VERY hungry!

A bit more optimistic than when he arrived, Christopher Robin skipped up the path toward Kanga and Roo's. That was a great place to look! Since neither one of them were going to Hogwarts he was sure he would find them home. He especially wanted to see Kanga and feel one of her kind hugs one last time. If even the thought made him feel all warm inside, imagine what the real thing would do!

Picking up his pace in anticipation, he arrived at Kanga's door, panting and suddenly shy. He supposed he really shouldn't expect a goodbye hug, just because he longed for one so badly. Kanga might not even think he deserved one after he decided to give up. Hopeful that he could make her understand why, he took a deep breath and rapped resolutely on the door.

"Kanga? Roo? Are you at home?" The words echoed through the keyhole and bounced back to taunt him. "…home? …home? …home?"

Christopher Robin pressed his face to the windowpane near the door, and peered inside. Empty. Just like all the others. Only where the others had been in various stages of packing for Hogwarts, Kanga's house looked as warm, cosy, and welcoming as ever from the inviting scrubbed wood table with its fragrant vase of honeysuckle, to the embers glowing merrily in the grate. A small sniff escaped as Christopher Robin started to regret his decision to quit fighting against The Family's ardent wishes for his immediate demise.

If only the echo could be right … if only this was his home instead of the dark abyss … if only he could live here with Kanga … then he would never ever give up.

But … it wasn't.

It seemed cruel of the fates to give him one last chance to say goodbye to his friends and then not allow him to find any them. Why couldn't just one little thing go his way for a change? Christopher Robin turned away from the window and stubbornly brushed the beginning of a tear out of his eye. He was okay with what was going to happen … he was! And he wasn't going to cry! It was just sand in his eyes.

Sand?

Sand!

He hadn't looked in the Sandy Pit where Roo loved to play! Maybe Kanga and Roo were there right now!

Heels flying, Christopher Robin tore across the field, past the nice place for picnicking and to the rim of the Sandy Pit where he threw himself down and peered over the edge.

No Kanga.

No Roo.

Just … sand.

Feeling the breeze pick up, Christopher Robin wiped real sand out of his eyes this time and got up dejectedly. He was so sure they'd be here. Kicking up little sand geysers with his bare toes as he walked, he circled to the far side of the pit where Rabbit had built his rabbit hole at the edge of a stream. Surely, Rabbit would be home! He just had to be!

He had asked Rabbit once why he had built his home in such a secluded spot, instead of on the other side of the stream in the middle of the Merry Meadow where all of Rabbit's friends and relations lived. Rabbit twitched his ears and told him it was because he has a brain and the sense not to. Christopher Robin wasn't sure what Rabbit had meant by that but he did know that Rabbit was the smartest animal in the entire wood. Christopher Robin also knew that what Rabbit hated most of all was being interrupted when he was busy doing something important. Being so smart, Rabbit was ALWAYS doing something important. He tiptoed through Rabbit's vegetable garden up to his hole, got down on all fours and peered in.

"Rabbit? Are you about?" Christopher Robin whispered loud enough for Rabbit to hear him if he wasn't busy, but quiet enough not to be if he was. He needn't have been careful - Rabbit was out busy doing something important elsewhere.

"Nobody here either," Christopher Robin sighed to no one in particular, only to hear a small squeaky voice protest.

"So I'm nobody!"

"Small? Is that you? Where are you?"

"Right here by your elbow."

"So sorry, I didn't see you there." Christopher Robin rolled over and sat up as he apologised to the Very Small Beetle.

"I often get misplaced, but that doesn't mean I'm not here!" Small squeaked back good-naturedly, no longer annoyed at Christopher Robin almost squashing him flat now that he had the boy's attention.

"Do you know where everyone else is? I've been looking and looking and I can't find them anywhere - no Owl, no Piglet, no Kanga, no Roo, no Pooh, and now no Rabbit."

"Everyone has to be somewhere even if it's not here. They might be there instead. Have you tried that? It's most logical." Small answered back.

"I suppose that you're right. I haven't looked in any 'there' places. I've only looked in 'here' places." Christopher Robin agreed slowly, berating himself for not thinking of it himself.

"Rabbit's not the only smart one around here, even if he does say so himself … constantly."

Christopher Robin laughed when Small rolled his tiny pin-dot beetle eyes. He knew that Rabbit and Small were fast friends despite how they kidded each other.

"Yes Rabbit _is_ smart, but then so are you Small," he told the little beetle and not just to placate him. He honestly thought that Small's cleverness with words more than made up for his short stature. After Rabbit, Small was the smartest one he knew, although Christopher Robin would never admit that to Owl who claimed that honour for himself. "In fact Small … you are probably so smart that you know where Rabbit might be," he added offhandedly so as to not miff the little beetle again.

"From what I heard around the meadow he is busy organizing a Very Important Rescue."

"A rescue? Oh my! Who is being rescued?"

"You!" Small announced excitedly, hopping around on all his legs.

"Me?" Christopher Robin laughed. "But I'm right here! I don't need rescuing."

Small stopped hopping and looked up at the boy speculatively. After careful consideration, he voiced the question, "Are you so very sure about that? Rabbit seemed to think so, and I must say I agree with him."

"Er … well … um … not so very sure … I suppose," Christopher Robin hedged after careful consideration of his own, the tips of his ears turning red in embarrassment.

"Well now there you have it," the little beetle pronounced gleefully at being right. "It's my humble opinion that when someone goes to all the trouble of organizing a rescue for you, it's only polite to let them go ahead and do it. It all works out much happier that way in the end, and everyone is pleased."

"Er … not always. At least not everyone … " Christopher Robin replied thinking about how The Family would react if Rabbit all of a sudden showed up on their very normal doorstep with a wooden sword and started brandishing it about, trying to rescue him. THEY wouldn't be pleased AT ALL!

"Oh yes indeedy – everyone always!" Small affirmed solidly.

"What if someone doesn't want it to happen? They wouldn't be very pleased if it did. I mean … then it wouldn't be everyone always being happy … would it Small?"

"I wouldn't worry about that for it is a statistical improbability that everyone everywhere will be simultaneously happy at all times."

"But Small you just said … _everyone always_ …" Frustrated by Small seemingly talking in circles, Christopher Robin uncharacteristically started to challenge the small beetle. That was the most bothersome thing he found with most of Rabbit's friends and relations – the habit they had of phrasing all their answers as if to try and teach him something. Small was no exception. Knowing he wouldn't get a straight answer, Christopher Robin back down with a resigned sigh. "Never mind, I guess it doesn't matter."

"Bravo Christopher Robin, bravo! That is it exactly! And on your first try too!" Small praised proudly hopping up and down.

"Huh?" Christopher Robin scratched his head clueless at what he'd said to make Small react that way.

"You are right - it doesn't matter if you please everyone. It only matters if you please the one who matters the most - when it matters the most. When and for whom should this phenomenon occur? Why for yourself, whenever you know you have tried your very best, despite the outcome it brings. On that note, I must take my leave. It's been pleasant chatting with you. We must do it again sometime," Small remarked flitting his glossy dark wings in preparation for leaving.

"Wait Small! Where are you going? You haven't told me where to find Rabbit yet! Besides, I want to say goodbye to you too!"

"Regretful that. Nevertheless, there is no time for it. I must get ready …"

"Ready? Ready for what Small?" Christopher Robin called after the quickly disappearing beetle.

"Hogwarts of course …" came back the faint reply.

"Hogwarts! Of course he's going to Hogwarts," Christopher Robin muttered crossly under his breath as he left Rabbit's place, rubbing his knee where he had knelt on a rock as he went. All of Small's talk of someone's and everyone's being happy, when he was still an unhappy no one, just reinforced to him his lack of control over events. "Everyone is going to Hogwarts but me, and there's nothing I can do about it."

In the back of his mind a tiny little niggle that knew better, nudged out of his sub-conscience and kicked harshly at his self-defeating comment. It only made him all the more cross. Less optimistic than ever, he headed for the only place left to look. But … how to get 'there' from 'here'?

Christopher Robin considered taking a short cut through the Merry Meadow, but the thought of coming across even more of Rabbit's friends and relations busily getting ready to go to Hogwarts, was not something he wanted to face. For that reason, he skirted around the top edge of the meadow – the wide arc taking him on a path far away from the Bee Tree (just in case the bees had seen him looking at them earlier with Pooh's looking though tube). He kept going until he reached the point where the river running through the centre of The Wood was at its deepest and swiftest. Using the big stones in the middle of the river, he hopped two footed, as Roo would do, to the far side, then crept down the edge of the dark abyss to head south. Shortly he arrived at the rather boggy place in the corner of The Wood where Eeyore's gloomy shack stood. Or rather, where it didn't …

Eeyore's gloomy shack had fallen down, but in its place the ever stoic Eeyore had set up a handy tent.

" … SNOOOORKkakakaka … SNOOOORKkakakaka …"

The sounds coming from inside the tent assured Christopher Robin that he had finally located one of his woodland friends.

"Eeyore? Is that you?" Christopher Robin giggled at the snoring that was causing the canvas sides to expand and contract, as if the tent itself was making the sound. If it kept up - the tent might collapse right next to the tumbledown shack!

" … SNOOOORKkakakaka … ka … wha?"

"I said … Eeyore is that you?"

"Why? Who's asking?" a grumpy voice asked from deep within the musty tent.

"It's me!"

"Me who?" was the suspicious reply.

"Christopher Robin silly!"

"I find very little silly about Christopher Robin," Eeyore snorted from inside the tent. "Which is rather sad, he should be silly more often. It suits him."

"I meant … it's me, Eeyore."

"Impossible. Last time I checked I'm Eeyore. Can't imagine anyone else wanting to be me. Not even me."

"Ha-ha! No Eeyore … It's me - Christopher Robin, come to visit!"

"Well why didn't you say so?" Eeyore asked as his tail end emerged from the tent first followed by his front end last.

"I thought I did … only you were sleeping so perhaps you didn't hear me."

"My ears do get stuffed when I nap in the middle of the day. All the fluff falls to the sides and plugs up the holes." Eeyore shook his head making his ears flop wildly from side to side. "Nope. Didn't help. Just made me dizzy."

"Ha-ha! Why do you do it then?"

"Because I haven't left for Hogwarts yet."

"What does that have to do with it?"

"Until I leave for Hogwarts, I have to get a bit of sleep after midday meal."

"Why?"

"Gran says so."

"Best to do it then," Christopher Robin remarked. Though he had never met Eeyore's infamous 'Gran' himself, his description of her made him think she was someone you shouldn't disobey, somewhat like Ma'am. Only Eeyore's obvious affection for his Gran made her seem not quite as formidable as the other.

"That's what I say," the little donkey agreed sighing as he plopped down in front of the tent and looked quizzically up at his friend. "So … what brings you to my humble abode on such a busy day?"

"Busy?" Christopher Robin asked as he took a seat next to him.

"Yes. Rabbit, Kanga, Gopher, and everyone, were all in a dither earlier."

"A dither? What's a dither? Is that a boat for rescuing someone?"

"No … I think that's a dory. A dither is a musical instrument. Rabbit told me that Small is starting up a band. I like bands. I offered to be the drummer but they forgot to take me with them," Eeyore replied sadly twitching his tail.

"There, there, Eeyore. I bet you would have been the best drummer in the whole entire Wood," Christopher Robin said to cheer him up.

"Thanks. But I probably would have poked someone's eye out with the sticks."

"Why do you think that?"

"Rabbit said I would," the little donkey admitted morosely.

"Oh."

The two friends sat side-by-side in front of the tent contemplating for a few moments - Eeyore on the fact that Rabbit considered him to be a walking disaster area, Christopher Robin on the fact that Rabbit was most nearly always right.

"I know - you and I can start our own band!" Christopher Robin finally suggested rashly, breaking the gloomy silence.

"Really? You would stay play with me?" Eeyore perked up immediately. The perking up causing him to twitch. The twitching causing his tail to fly off. The flying tail whacking Christopher Robin solidly in the head.

"Er … sure Eeyore. Only …" Christopher Robin hedged as he leaned over and pinned the donkey's tail back in its proper place with one hand while he rubbed his head with the other.

"Only what Christopher Robin?" Eeyore asked swishing his tail thankfully, making sure it affixed securely.

"Only I'm … I'm not going to be here very long. That was why I was looking for everyone … to tell you all goodbye on last time. However, it looks as if I've missed everyone else. Would you tell them for me?"

"Goodbye? I don't understand. Aren't you coming to Hogwarts with us? Tigger and Roo told me you were!" Eeyore protested.

"I wanted to try … really I did," Christopher Robin rushed to assure the little donkey who was now chewing on his recently reattached tail in distress. "It's just that if I do … The Family won't be very happy."

"I accepted a long time ago that all the things that don't go my way are the stuff that makes up destiny. If I hadn't, I wouldn't ever be happy," advised the perpetually sad little donkey. "I say whatever will be, will be. And since what will be won't please anyone else, I might as well just be the best me I can be. If no one else..." he shrugged "...it will please myself."

"Still, The Family would be MUCH happier if I … um … stay and feed the roses."

Eeyore cocked his head so that one long ear was almost touching the ground, and thought about that. Something just wasn't making sense. "Can't they feed them without you?"

"Er … not really, you might say they need me to make the main course," Christopher Robin ruefully tried to explain.

"I prefer pudding," Eeyore announced decidedly, glad that his friend's problem was only about what to prepare for dinner and not something more serious. He was getting worried there for a minute. "Only Gran says I'm getting pudgy and when I get to Hogwarts I'll never get the broom up and everyone will laugh at me. She's probably right," Eeyore sighed. "With my luck the broom will break in two and I'll end up on my arse. That being the case, I guess it won't matter if I eat a small snack. Do you care for some strawberry ice cream? Kanga gave me some. There's not much, but I could share. I have two spoons."

"No thank you," Christopher Robin assured his friend, and then proceeded to watch the little donkey lick the bowl clean leaving a strawberry comically stuck to his nose.

"Can we have our band now?" Eeyore asked hopefully. "Here you can use turn this bowl upside-down and use it for a drum, and I'll use these spoons to make music!"

… click-clack jangle jange! … clacky-clack jing jing jang! … he demonstrated.

"C'mon, Christopher Robin! Let's play band!" Eeyore coaxed and started marching around the tent, tail swishing in time to the music.

… jingle! jangle! jingle! …

"C'mon! C'mon!'

Christopher Robin sighed to himself as he picked the bowl and joined the parade. What Eeyore said about when he wasn't able to please everyone he just tried to please himself... he was sure that was the same thing that Small was telling him to do earlier. And while he had to agree with their theory (after all they knew more than he did about those things), and he had to admit that in at least one way he and Eeyore were very much alike (neither of them could ever seem to please anyone), in his case he was certain that The Family wouldn't permit him to please himself. Given that, he might as well make Eeyore happy while he could since he didn't have that much time left to do anything else.

… thunk thunk thunk … he beat out rhythmically.

But if he could do just one thing to please himself, he would make his friends listen to him when he said goodbye. It was difficult enough to do in the first place …

…harder, when his friends refuse to hear him say it.


	44. And now it's time to leave

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, typed and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Language and mention of extreme child abuse, refers to rape. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Saturday afternoon, August 3rd, 1991

And now _**finally**_ with many many MANY sincere apologies for the extremely long delay - - - part five! :)

**Chapter 44 – I went to a Garden Party**

**Part Five: And now it's time to leave**

… thunk thunk thunk thunk thunk …

"_Now if this key will only fit …"_

… click-clack jingle jangle jing jing …

"_C'mon! C'mon! … work!"_

… clacky-clack jang jang … click! …

"_Aha! Gotcha!"_

… scrape scrape … _sliiiiiiiiiiide _… thunk …

Dudley unlocked the little padlock, then after taking it off the hasp and undoing the deadbolt, he paused to glance around quickly one more time. Good! No one was watching! Now was his chance! Easing open the door to the little hidden cupboard he put a finger to his lips, motioning the Freak to stay put and stay silent.

Boy tried to not react to Cousin's sudden intrusion into his dream as he return abruptly to reality, but he couldn't help it, and made the faintest of sounds.

"Shush! Quiet Boy! Do you want someone to hear?"

Boy shook his head vehemently as he sat up and brushed some stray strands of spider web from his face. That was the last thing he wanted to have happen! He had just been so startled when it was Cousin who had opened his door, and not Master, that he had let out a little gasp of surprise.

He had been expecting Master at any moment - ever since he heard the first angry shouts. Cousin could hurt too, he just didn't hit quite as hard as Master did, and he rarely broke any bones and seemed almost apologetic when he did. Plus Cousin didn't make boy do any of those _other_ things. Boy was relieved by whom it was who had finally opened his door. However, wary just the same. He backed into the farthest corner, just as far as he could possibly go without becoming part of the wall.

Then much to Boy's surprise, instead of striking him as he should have and he certainly deserved for such ungrateful thoughts towards Master, Cousin did a _very _bewildering thing. He crawled into Boy's cupboard and closed the door behind him, shutting them both together in the dark. It was a tight fit, as Dudley took up more than his share of the space. But with a grunt, a 'move over' order followed by a small shove to impress his point, he managed it anyway.

Well, that was unexpected!

Initial shock over - Boy started to shake. Maybe Cousin _did _want to do the same horrible things to him that Master did. Master said that he would have other 'customers'. He just never imagined one of them would be Cousin. Furthermore, since Master didn't fit in the cupboard he had foolish thought that he was at least safe from that in here.

Dudley was momentarily panicked by the darkness that enveloped him as soon he shut the door. He had never realized before how dark it was in here. In fact, if he could possibly avoid it, he had never looked closely into Boy's cupboard at all. It made him feel like sicking up when he did. So for the first time he took in the fact that there wasn't a light source or ventilation of any kind, save for the small crack under the door. Now all the times that his dad would put a heavy bath towel down, along the baseboard in the hall, made a cruel sort of sense.

He had never really thought about it before - what blocking off the small crack would mean to his cousin sealed up in his tiny little world. His dad had just chuckled when he would ask him why he was doing it. Then he would explain patiently that the stench escaping the cupboard was giving Petunia a migraine. Therefore, he was temporarily plugging up the crack until it went away, and once alleviated he would unplug it. But now that he was inside the cupboard himself, Dudley suspected that it was really just one more sick way his dad punished Boy - by taking away even that meagre access to the outside, and causing total sensory deprivation.

He would go stark raving nutters if he had to live like this!

Thinking about it now, and remembering his science lesson in school about how all living things needed water and oxygen to live, he was surprised that Boy hadn't been asphyxiated any one of the times that his dad 'forgot' to unblock the crack after hours on end. It had been less than a minute and Dudley was already starting to sweat from how 'closed in' it felt. There didn't seem to be much air in the space as it was, he noted, as he loosened his tie and the collar of his Smelting shirt.

He knew his dad had always been mean to his little cousin, but it was finally dawning on him just how utterly cruel and heartless his dad really was towards Boy, and how he tortured him in even the smallest of ways at every opportunity. A policeman had come to their Primary class once and talked to them about child abuse, but Dudley had never associated what the policeman had said with how his parents treated Boy. After all, it wasn't really the same, was it? Not with Boy being a slave instead of a real person.

But still … he kind of _looked_ like a real person. That is if you squinted up your eyes and didn't get close enough to smell him.

All in all, Dudley was glad he had made the decision he had.

He had heard his dad say that he could murder Boy and that no one could stop him, and that no one would care. His dad said that he had the right to do it, since Boy was his slave, but Dudley questioned the truth of that statement. In all of the Cop shows that he had watched on his telly, people that committed murder always got into trouble and always went to jail, or they got murdered themselves for payback. Occasionally they got away with it, but those episodes were few, and the shows always made them out to be bad horrible people. And his dad was … well, his dad … not a bad horrible person.

Of course, none of those shows mentioned slavery so he supposed that killing a slave could be an exception just as his dad said it was, however Dudley didn't want to take that chance. Maybe his dad wasn't the best dad in the world, but he was _his_ dad, and the only one he had. Dudley didn't want to see him in jail or dead.

Dudley wasn't really sure when everything in their family life went so out of whack from the 'perfectly normal' that his Mum was always harping on, but he had to agree with his parents that all their troubles started with Boy. He reasoned that if Boy were gone, his dad would quit being so obsessed with training and punishing Boy, and become a real father to him again - a nice one, one who would play catch with him like Mr. Polkiss did with his friend Piers. Then maybe his Mum would be happy again. The last few days his mum had been very angry about everything - and everything seemed to be all centred on Boy. Dudley had seen the expression on his mum's face lately when she looked at Boy, when she thought no one was watching her. It was almost as if she felt guilty about something and regretted it. It took him a while to figure out what emotion he was seeing, as he had never before known his mum to ever show guilt or regret about anything.

Dudley had always believed his Dad when he said that how he treated Boy was how slaves should be treated. He had even shown him the books that he had on how to properly train slaves to prove it. Dudley figured that if they wrote books about it, it must be true … right? At least his teachers at school always believed what was in the books they were teaching. His dad said that slaves weren't the same as real people, that they were stupid and could only learned by being treated harshly. He said that slaves actually _liked_ being treated that way. Dudley didn't know anyone else who had a slave, so he had no basis of comparison, however Boy didn't seem that stupid to him, and it didn't seem like he liked being beaten that much either - even if he was always sincerely thanking them for doing it to him afterwards.

When he let himself think about it (which wasn't often), something about the whole scenario just seemed off to Dudley. It gave him the nagging feeling that his dad might have gotten something horribly wrong somewhere.

When he first saw that guilty look on his mum's face, he thought that maybe his mum also thought his dad was wrong too. And that maybe she just didn't know how to tell his dad so or how to make him stop it. When he thought his mum felt about it as he did, Dudley started toying with the idea of talking to those two constables about Boy on Monday when they were to go to the Child Protective Service, but then just a little while ago when he'd come in to complain about being bored, he heard her say that his dad could do anything he liked to Boy, and that she wouldn't care in the least. Now Monday sounded like it would be far too late.

It was all much too complicated for Dudley to comprehend. He liked things simple and straightforward. People should just say what the mean, and mean what they say.

As much as he hated doing it – Dudley had forced himself to think deeply about what was going on in his home and what to do about it. When he was done, he made a decision. He decided that if something was going to happen to change the destructive course his parents were on, he was going to have to be the one to make it happen - with or without his mum's support. His dad kept threatening to do it, but he never followed through. His mum said she didn't care what happened one way or the other, and turned her back to the situation. Boy? Well Boy couldn't do anything unless ordered to.

He was the only one left. He was going to have to get Boy out of their lives once and for all. That was simply all there was to it.

The policeman had told their class that if they thought something was wrong they should talk to him, or to their teacher, the school nurse, the principal, any adult they trusted and should not try to take care of it themselves. But Dudley didn't want to get his parents into any trouble and he had a hunch if he talked to any of the people the policeman mentioned - they would. However, if he took care of it himself then the only one who would get into trouble over what happened to Boy would be him. And he was willing to make the sacrifice to save his family. The way he had reasoned it out was that he was only a kid, so the law wouldn't do much to him if someone found out, just as nothing much had happened over the graffiti and vandalism. They hadn't thrown him in jail or anything! Getting rid of boy himself was better for everyone. Now if he could just get Boy to understand it was for the best, and that he should cooperate, it would make it soooooo much easier to do.

"Um … Dad and Mum are not very happy with you," Dudley started to explain as he sat huddled in the dark next to his cousin. It was so cramped! And stuffy! And hard on his bum! There wasn't even a thin mattress on the rough floor boards to sit on, and the stale smell of sweat and urine, and god knows what else, made him want to gag. Dudley didn't know how Boy had survived living in here for so long without complaining. He had been in here less than two minutes and he was already physically ill from it. He was ready to leave and to never come back.

Boy sucked in his breath and nodded in agreement. He knew it. It was going to be bad, his worst punishment yet. Master was going to kill him this time. He had been waiting on pins and needles for it to happen for what seemed like hours now.

"I think he might kill you this time, and use you to fertilize the rose bushes."

Boy just shrugged. He already knew that and was resigned to his fate. He had made his peace with dying. As his friend Eeyore said - if it was to be, it was to be. He certainly couldn't stop it. Master always knew best and it wasn't for him to question. If Master thought that he would be more useful to Master as fertilizer, then Master would be right. Boy only prayed Master would be quick and merciful. However he really didn't have much hope of that either. Master said he wanted to teach him one last lesson first. Boy shuddered at the thought of the very long night ahead of him in the playroom with Master and the not so fun 'toys' in Master's toolbox, before being diced up into mulch.

"I don't think that's right."

Boy didn't understand what Cousin was saying. What was not right about it? He was a slave and if that is what his Master chose to do with his slave, he had no right to protest. Master was right. Master was always right. That was one of Master's hard and fast rules.

"I think it's time for you to leave."

Leave? How did Cousin think he could do that? He had tried his best to disappear and it just hadn't worked. And he couldn't think of any other way to leave while he was on his chain. What else could Cousin mean? Boy didn't voice his questions and remained silent.

"It will help Dad and Mum if you do. Okay, it will really help me too, but it'll even help you - I promise."

Boy wanted to be helpful to The Family whenever he could and however he could. It was what he was trained to desire, but now he was really confused … help himself? How would leaving his cupboard help him in the slightest? At least in his cupboard he could scoot as far under the hollow of the bottom stair as he could and be almost out of reach of Master. He could delay the inevitable just a few more seconds that way. But if he left the cupboard's relative safety, he had no hope at all. He couldn't go farther than the length of the chain, and there was no safer place within that distance than his cupboard.

In the dim light from the crack under the door, Dudley could see the obvious confusion on Boy's face. He didn't understand!

"Look, what I mean is… I think you need to leave. Not just the cupboard, you need to get out of the house too."

Leave the house? How? Boy already knew he couldn't disappear. Oh! Maybe Cousin meant Master needed him in the yard, to fix whatever it was Ma'am thought was wrong out there before Master killed him and there was nobody left to do the work!

Now that made sense. That would help The Family. And in a round about way, it would even help Boy - because Boy had never been allowed in the yard during the daytime, and he would like to do it before he died. He had always wanted to feel the sun on his skin and to see the garden its golden light. He was sure that after all that Miss Tonks had done the night before that it was very beautiful, even if Ma'am didn't appreciate the results.

Boy was more than willing to go out and tidy it up, if the Fete was over and all the guest gone – provided of course that Cousin would take him out. Perhaps it would even make Master less angry with him. Boy reached across Dudley to point to the far end of the chain, where it was locked through the eyebolt on the door, and then offered a loop of the chain to Cousin for him to hold once it was unlocked.

"NO! That's NOT what I meant!" Dudley's whisper almost became a shout when Boy offered him his leash.

His harsh tone of voice caused Boy to drop the chain with a clatter and then to cower in the corner awaiting the blows he was sure were to follow as punishment for his stupidity. He really had thought that since cousin had unlocked his cupboard door – and with all his talk of having Boy go outside - that Cousin must have the key to the chain as well.

"I mean you have to _GET AWAY!_ _ FAR AWAY! _ Not just out of the house, but out of the yard too! Beyond the fence! You know … go away … scram … beat it … run … escape … That's the word! 'Escape'. That's what you need to do, and I think you need to do it NOW. Yes, I _definitely_ think it is time for you to _leave_. Do you get my drift?"

Boy shook with fear at the ferocity in Cousin's voice. He had absolutely no idea how to answer his question.

"Here, take it before I change my mind." Dudley pulled a bulky roll of papers out of his pocket that were bound tightly with an elastic band and thrust it at him. "You need to go. RIGHT NOW."

Boy sucked in his breath and recoiled as far as he could trying not to touch Cousin and whatever Cousin was holding. He always got into trouble if he touched any of Cousin's things. So this is why Cousin really came – to get him into even more trouble than he was already in!

Dudley sighed in frustration. Grabbing Boy's hand he forced the roll of money into his palm and then physically closed Boy's hand around it, one stubborn finger at a time.

"Geeze! You're making this hard. I know Dad said that you can't own anything, especially anything of value, but this different - it's money. Nobody really knows what it's worth because it changes all the time. In fact, Dad said just this morning at brekki that all money was worthless unless you had millions of it. So he certainly wouldn't care about this much – he hasn't even noticed it was gone for ages. There now. That's enough to pay for the bus to London, and food for a while. London is really big. Dad won't ever find you there."

London? That was where Miss Tonks said she lived! But Miss Tonks also talked about living at Hogwarts, and Tigger and Pooh had said that Hogwarts was just on the far side of the Hundred Acre Wood. Was London and Hogwarts the same place? That made sense to Boy. After all, how many different places could there possibly beyond the garden? To him there were only three places that existed. 'Inside' the house which was the centre of his universe and in which on the rare occasion he was allowed to wander somewhat freely as long as it was to do chores. 'Outside' which was comprised of the garden, a protective ring around the centre into which he was sometimes allowed to go but only if on his leash. Lastly 'beyond', the large vast unknown area on the other side of the garden fence, where neighbours, the Hundred Acre Wood, and London all existed. Only he was barred from going 'beyond' the fence, unless it was to Prison - which was also there.

"So what do you say? Will you go away - really far, far away - if I can arrange it?"

Boy's eyes narrowed at the question. He knew it could still be a trick. Nevertheless, he wouldn't mind going outside to the beyond, if he could avoid Prison. Especially if it were to go to London. That is - if Master would allow him to. Maybe he could find Hogwarts and make sure Miss Tonks and Mercury were both okay. Maybe he could even look for his friends in the Woods while he was there!

But… why would Master let him? It was more likely that Master might have sent Cousin here to tempt him to break a rule so he would have all the more to punish him for before he killed him. Master and Ma'am had both done it before. It was not without precedence. But what could he do about it? Cousin had asked him a direct question so now he was bound by the collar he wore to answer it, and to do so without lying. But to say yes - would be a betrayal to Master's authority, and to say no - would be lying. Both were punishable offenses to the collar.

As he struggled to find an answer to Cousin's question, that would do no self-harm in the process, Boy could feel the multifaceted eyes of the little house spiders watching him. When Cousin had barged into their realm, the garden spiders had fled en masse, but the house spiders had only retreated as far as the nooks and crannies. They stayed protectively close to their little wizard in case they needed to send out another call for help. Boy could feel their calm unwavering support wash over him. As it steadied him, a flash of a memory came back to him almost as if the little spiders were willing him to remember.

He could recall a time that spring when Ma'am started screaming when she spied one of the tiny spiders scuttle across her pristine floor. As Boy tried to gently catch it, in order to carry it safely away from Ma'am feet, Master came in the room and asked him what he thought he was doing. He had first answered too quietly, earning himself a cuff to the head, so he had repeated that he had said that he was trying to get rid of the spider for Ma'am. Master cuffed him again, harder this time, sending him slamming to the floor and crushing the wayward spider in the process. Master stood over him gloating and then said that 'just saying isn't doing' and that just standing there giving him lip service, was not doing. Using Boy to crush the spider - now that was doing. Master then told him not to ever forget it.

He remembered it now. So if just saying wasn't doing, it left a small question in his mind if he was really betraying Master just by saying he would like to escape. Whereas saying no, would be without a doubt the biggest lie he had ever told in his life. With the spider's encouragement, he took the chance and breathed out a very faint answer.

Nevertheless, be it faint or not, it was still a yes.

"Good!" Dudley sighed in relief, as he had been holding his breath waiting for Boy's answer. "Now what I need you to do, is to pack up all your … um … stuff."

Dudley stopped talking and looked around. Even in the gloomy light, he could see there wasn't anything much at all in the small cupboard. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Telling Boy to pack when his Dad and Mum hadn't ever given Boy anything except the rags he was wearing. Boy had nothing. For a moment, he had forgotten to whom he was talking.

Boy thought differently however. His mind was busily making a list of all the treasures hidden in his little space so he would be sure not to leave any of them behind him. First, there were all of Cousin's gifts, and then of course the storybook, blanket, his father's glasses, the apples, and the owl feathers. He didn't want to leave any of them behind if he didn't have too. Then he thought that he would like to take the pitcher and plastic bucket as well. He knew that they didn't belong to him, but he might need them and it wasn't as if Master wanted them. The only reason boy had them at all was because in a rare magnanimous moment, Ma'am had allowed him to salvaged them from the rubbish bin for his own use so that she wouldn't have to bother letting him out of the cupboard daily. Besides, she hadn't said _where_ he could use them, only that he _could_. Therefore, by Miss Tonks reasoning, it should be okay to take them with him!

The only thing Boy still wasn't sure of was the 'how'. How did Cousin think he could leave? The question was evident on his face.

"Don't worry. I got it all planned! Well … kind of. You see, there are a couple of kids here - they're stupid dorks, but between my gang and them, we ought to be able to create a diversion. But first, we got to get you out of the house without anyone seeing. We can't use the front or back doors because there are people at both places and someone is sure to see you, it being daytime and all. We can't risk that._"_

Boy shuddered at the thought, and his mouth got even drier than usual. What did Cousin expect him to do? He couldn't leave the cupboard if someone might see him. That was absolutely against the rules – black and white, there was no gray about it.

"I thought about having you go out the window in my room. There's a trellis outside and you're small enough you could climb down easy. But with Aunt Marge stuck upstairs, that's out too."

Boy was glad of that. Cousin must have forgotten that another rule was that he wasn't allowed upstairs where The Family slept, except under the strictest of supervision to clean - something about not wanting to be murdered in their sleep by a known killer.

"You can't go out any of the windows on the ground floor either. Dad nailed them shut when all those letters started showing up, except for the one in the kitchen. But it's right next to back door so that's no good. You might as well traipse out the door starkers as to go out that one. Probably wouldn't even attract as much attention as climbing out over the sink would. So that's out."

Cousin didn't have to tell him that, Boy knew about the windows already. He had been the one that had nailed them shut while Master watched. Master had told him it was for his own protection, because he was too stupid to be trusted to not to open a window and draw attention from the neighbours. The only window not nailed shut on the ground floor was the small one over the kitchen sink. Ma'am insisted it remain operational, as she liked to air out the kitchen once Boy finished cooking and was locked back away in his cupboard. That way she said wouldn't be subjected to the heat of the ovens, which tended to wilt her expensive hairdos.

Nailing the windows shut had been as if he were nailing down the lid of his own coffin, besides Boy really didn't see the point in doing it. After all, the rules prohibited him from opening any of them anyway, but the unusual method of the letter's arrival had seemed to have upset Master and Ma'am, and boy thought that nailing the windows shut was really more about keeping the letters out than it was about keeping him in. Nevertheless it didn't stop the letters. They just started being delivered in odd ways, such as in egg cartons instead.

The letter! Boy had almost forgotten about the letters, and that he currently had the last one that Roo and Tigger had taped back together for him, hidden in his pocket. He started to think guiltily about the letter, his mind finally acknowledging the fact that he had started to think of the letter as 'his'. As soon as he started to have those possessive thoughts, the collar started to tighten. It reminded him that he should turn it over to Master, anything he had belonged to Master, and he wasn't allowed to have anything of Master's without his permission. Master definitely would not give him permission to have one of the letters, not after Master had so vehemently prohibited them coming into his house. Besides, Kanga had said the letter was for a wizard, and he wasn't a wizard, he was a slave. There wasn't any magic in him. If anyone was magic, it was Master with his evil box. Maybe Master should go to Hogwarts. As the collar continued to tighten at his delay in relinquishing illegal possession, he reluctantly drew it out of his pocket and handed it over to Cousin. He breathed a sigh of relief when the collar immediately loosened at his obedience.

"What's this?" Cousin asked squinting at it. Cracking open the door a little; he held the parchment up to the light from the hall so he could read it.

Boy was in awe. Imagine! Being able to read anything you wanted, anytime you wanted to! Without even having to think about it! Cousin was so smart!

"Hey! It's one of those letters that Dad and Mum were all hot about! I tried to get a hold of one of them to see what it was all about, but Mum was guarding them as if they were the crown jewels. She wouldn't let me touch them - said they would contaminate me. It's all taped up so it's hard to read, but I think I can make it out. It's addressed to a Mr. H. Potter, in the Very Small Second Cupboard under the Stairs, Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Well, except for the name, it seems to be addressed to you. The address is right, even down to the cupboard being the very small second one, and not the large first one with the cleaning supplies. But how would anyone know that someone lived in it? And who is 'H. Potter'?" Cousin looked at him oddly but Boy just shrugged, and swallowed his disappointment.

He knew it! He had known it all along that the letter couldn't have been meant for him! 'H. Potter' was not one of the names Master gave him - those names were all indelibly etched in his skin so he couldn't forget. 'H. Potter' must be the same 'Potter boy' that the dinner guests had come to find, and also the boy named 'Harry Potter' that Miss Tonks had mistaken him for in the garden. He envied this mysterious boy. People seemed to want him, at least enough to look for him. He wished someone wanted him that way. It would be nice think that someone cared. If he were this Harry Potter, he certainly wouldn't hide from them, as this boy seemed to be doing – especially not from Miss Tonks! He wished it really had been his letter. He wished he had been this Potter boy.

Dudley watched his cousin carefully. Around his parents, Boy's face became totally void of emotion, blank just like his toy robot, especially when he was being punished - which was the majority of the time. But in unguarded moments like this one, his every thought was there on his face for anyone to read who cared to look. It was just no one had ever cared to. There was no absolutely no deceitfulness in him. And what Dudley saw now was that his little Cousin really wanted the letter to be his, but knew that he would punish if he were to be found with it, the same as he had been for the broken toy soldier.

Boy must have found one of the letters that his dad had ripped up and toss in the rubbish bin, and salvaged it just as he had the chipped pitcher and the dented bucket. It was such a trivial thing but it seemed to mean a lot to Boy. Dudley couldn't imagine that his Dad would want the letter back in this condition, even if Boy had taped it back together. However, if he knew his dad as he thought he did, his dad would still have a holy cow if he found it in the house.

Dudley made up his mind quickly, being justifiably proud of his recent decisiveness. Boy had such few things, and Dudley knew that he treasured every last one of them, even the pitiful birthday 'gifts' he had left for him. Boy couldn't read, and even if he could, the contents of the letter were virtually unreadable with that much tape on it. Dudley couldn't see where it would hurt if Boy kept it, especially seeing as he was going to make sure Boy left the house for good and take the letter with him - then his parents wouldn't find Boy or the letter, or find out that Dudley knew that he had it and let him keep it.

Get rid of them both. It made perfect sense to Dudley.

"You should keep it," Dudley said decisively, pressing it back into Boy's hand.

Boy dropped it as if it would burn him. It wasn't his! It belonged to H. Potter!

Dudley picked it back up and persisted. "No, I mean it," he said putting it back in Boy's hand and closing his fingers around it like he had the roll of bills. "It's yours. All you have to do is say 'finder's keeper's loser's weepers' and it legally belongs to you, and no one can take it away. It's the law."

Boy gave him an incredulous look. He knew the rules! He wasn't allowed to own anything! He wasn't going to be tricked by cousin into disobeying again. He was in enough trouble with Master as it was, and Cousin was just out to make it worse - as if it could possibly get that way.

"Okay fine be that way …" Dudley rolled his eyes and sighed.

He realized that he was going to have to get Boy past this before he could get on with the rescue mission … bloody hell! If he was going to get Boy to do _any _of the things that he was going to ask him to do next, it was beginning to look as if he was going to have to take the time to explain it better. For a slave who was supposed to do everything he was told, immediately and without question, Boy could sure be stubborn!

"How finders-keepers works is like this … if someone loses something or throws it away, then it doesn't belong to anybody - anywhere - anyhow – anymore. And that makes it fair pickings for anyone else who comes along and finds it. But to make it legal you have to say 'Finders' … that would be you - the finder in this case … and then 'keepers' … that would be what you intend to do with it – keep it … and then you say 'losers' … that would be the sucker who lost whatever you found … and then lastly you say 'weepers' … that would be what the sucker will do if they decide the want it back only to find out it isn't theirs anymore because it belongs to you. Or you can just say 'finder's keepers' for short and that works too. It's all perfectly legalish."

'_Sure … that may work for Cousin, but he isn't a slave who has to live by a rule saying he can't own anything.' _

"I see you _**still**_ don't believe me," Dudley surmised with a bit of self-righteous indignation.

Boy reluctantly nodded his head. That was true – it was hard to believe.

"Well isn't one of Dad's rules that you _**have**_ to believe anything I say, and do anything I tell you?" Dudley hoped that he was right about that since he was counting on it. However, to tell the truth when his dad would start ranting about the rules, he usually tuned him out since Boy's rules didn't apply to him.

Well, that wasn't_ quite_ the rule Boy thought to himself. However, it was true enough. There was a rule about Boy having to believe everything Master said, and another one that Boy had to do anything any of his betters wanted him too. Then there was one that when Master wasn't there, Ma'am was in charge of him and he had to obey her like he would Master. And then another rule, that if both Master and Ma'am weren't there, then Cousin was in charge of him, and that he was to respect and obey Cousin during those times as if he were Master himself. So in a roundabout way, Cousin was right. Since Cousin was the only one there - Boy had to believe anything he said, and Boy had to do anything he told him to do … even if it would eventually get him into trouble with Master. Just more of those not-so-fair rules guaranteed to make sure he was punished frequently.

Boy nodded again … reluctantly. VERY reluctantly!

Dudley could see the wheels turning in his little cousin's head and breathed another sigh of relief when he finally made the connections he had wanted him to. "Great! Well 'finder's keepers' is a law, and a law is even more important not to break than a rule. They throw you in jail if you don't obey the laws. Right? Isn't that what Dad said?"

Boy nodded a third time. Master had threatened him often enough with prison to know that was the absolute truth.

"So say it after me … say 'finders keepers losers weepers'. Say it now, and you haft to say it … _out loud … _or it doesn't work."

"… f-f-finders … k-k-keepers … l-l-losers … w-w-weepers …" Boy stuttered as ordered, but not very loudly just in case.

"There! It's yours! Put it back in your pocket. Now that that's taken care of, back to the escape plan. It's ninja time!" Dudley chortled gleefully, rubbing his hands together.

"As I was saying, I've ruled out both the front and back doors, and the windows on this floor and upstairs, so your ways out of the house are extremely limited …

'… _tell me something I don't know …'_

"But I did think of one other way out," Cousin said proudly. "You're small enough yet, you could probably do it."

Boy wondered again, about what Cousin could possibly be talking. He couldn't think of any other way out.

He'd thought about it many times when he was much younger and was still full of irrational hope. He had even tried a few times but had never been successful and it only served to make his life more restrictive. For each time he had tried, Master made a new rule that prevented him from using that particular means of escape a second time. His try at escaping by climbing up the chimney on Christmas Eve, being his most notable attempt.

He got that idea from eavesdropping while Ma'am read stories to Cousin about Father Christmas. Father Christmas apparently gained illicit entrance to the house that way every year, to bring Cousin gifts for being such a good boy. Boy thought if a big fat man, carrying a sack with a mountain of gifts in it, could make it down the chimney - than a very small boy with nothing to carry up, should be able to make it easy.

He was wrong.

Boy had been doing fairly well at climbing up, considering he had a sprained wrist and a fractured ankle at the time, but it was still slow going with no handholds of which to speak, just the counterbalance of the pressure of his back against one side of the rough chimney blocks and his bare feet against the other. He was less than a meter from the top when Master had spotted the little puffs of black soot coming out of the fireplace and went up after him. The funniest thing about it was that Master had gotten stuck trying to pull him back down. Ma'am tried to pull him out by his feet, and then Cousin tried to pull her out by hanging on her legs. Their combined weight finally dislodged Master and he popped out of the chimney just like a cork from a bottle, bringing Boy right along with him. Unfortunately, Boy was not the only thing that Master brought out with him. What had caused him to become lodge in the first place was a massive soot deposit. Along with Cousin, Ma'am, Master and Boy, all of whom landed in a tangle of arms and legs, came a huge cloud of soot which spread all over Ma'am living room ruining her rugs. After that attempt, Master had boarded up the fireplace and installed an electric fire.

'More efficient anyway,' Master had announced as he sealed up the would-be escape route.

To Boy's regret, he paid for this particular attempt in more ways than one. Although he managed to restore the rug to an almost spotless state, after scrubbing it for three solid days without resting, Ma'am decided Boy just wasn't able to clean the carpet to her satisfaction. The only remedy was to have it replaced. After Ma'am replaced the sooty rug, she said the furniture look shabby, and then of course everything needed a fresh coat of paint. However, once the Living room had been set to rights, the front hall look tattered in comparison. Ma'am didn't stop until the entire house had been redone, sans the basement and one small cupboard under the stairs. The whole fuss was entirely Boy's fault Master justified as he added the cost of the massive renovation and redecorating to Boy's debt ledger.

"… the house used to be heated by coal, and the coal trucks would to deliver it into the basement through an old coal chute. I think Dad boarded it up when he first bought the house, because Mum didn't like the mess it made. She had him convert the house to electric. The chute is gone now but the door to it is still there. It's really small but I think you can get through. I want you to try. Will you?"

Boy unenthusiastically nodded his head 'yes' again. Cousin's plan didn't seem terribly well thought out. Even if he did make through this door, the one he had never seen and that apparently only Cousin knew about, what then? He would still be in the yard in the broad daylight. Cousin said there were still people in the yard. Someone was sure to see him. However, even though the plan was sure to fail, Boy knew he didn't have a choice except to agree anyway. Master had told him that his betters every wish was his command, so if Cousin wanted him to try, he had to do it.

"Good. Then follow me and don't forget to be quiet!" Cousin cautiously opened the cupboard door and peeked out to make sure the coast was clear. Once he was sure there was no one in the hallway, and that his Aunt Marge was still in her room, he put a finger to his lips and crept out motioning boy to follow him. Halfway down the hall, he discovered Boy wasn't following.

"Well? Come on then!" he hissed in a loud whisper.

Boy didn't know what to do, he had to obey Cousin's command but his leash was still locked to the eyebolt. What good would it do to leave the cupboard if he was still on the chain? Thankfully, before the collar started to punish him again for disobeying a direct order, Cousin realized what was holding him up and came back.

"That's right! Sorry … I forgot. And Dad took the keys off the hook. It was just really lucky that that girl found the key to the door when Dad dropped it. He might have dropped the other one too, but I doubt I'll be able to find it." Dudley frowned as he pondered how to overcome this obstacle. "If he did … it's probably been trampled into the ground already by all those people milling about in the garden … the garden … hey! I got an idea! You stay here. I'll be right back!"

Boy laughed to himself. Did Cousin really think he had to tell him to 'stay here'? What else could he do but stay? Less than a second later his door was pulled open again and cousin thrust a bundle of clothes at him.

"Here, I almost forgot - while I'm gone put these on and be quick about it!" Cousin shut the door again as quickly as he'd opened it, leaving Boy a little breathless and bewildered.

Boy did as ordered and folded up his old black rags into a small packet which reminded him he hadn't packed. If the problem of the chain hadn't delayed them, he would have left without his other things! He didn't have much, but he didn't want to leave what little he did have behind for Master to find and destroy. He grudgingly used the little bit of water left in his pitcher to rinse out the empty bucket. He then dried it with the corner of his tattered shirt, to make sure it was clean before packing his few belongings in it. He wished he could have had at least a sip of the water first, as he was still very thirsty, but Ma'am had forbidden him drinking any water today.

He felt around carefully to make sure he hadn't missed anything. He put the roll of money, the book, glasses, pitcher, and his little pile of gifts inside the bucket and then put the bucket on the blanket with the pile of black rags. The only thing he didn't take was Miss Tonks little cloth bag which was hidden under the loose floorboard. Master had prohibited him from using any more of the medicines, besides he reasoned the little bag wasn't his to take. He couldn't claim it under the 'finders keepers' law, because Miss Tonks hadn't lost the bag, or thrown it away. He had accidentally taken it from her. And he didn't want to be the cause of her weeping when she found out she had lost it. No, that he had to leave behind. If he ever found her, he could tell her where it was. Under the floorboard, it would stay safe from Master until she could claim it herself.

Before tying up the corners of the blanket, Boy took one more look through the scant pile. A nagging doubt made him take one of them back out of the bucket. The pin. What about the pin? Should he take it? Was it really a gift too? It had arrived the same way as his other gifts had – slid through the crack under the door - so he thought it had been meant for him. But now he wasn't as sure. The pin was so much nicer than the gifts he had received before. And he had already received one gift for this year, both pieces of a really great pencil that even had a bit of rubber left on one end. He was fairly sure that all the gifts in the past had come from Cousin, as he knew that neither Master nor Ma'am would ever leave him gifts, and no one else knew he existed. So the pin had to have come from Cousin too. Only Cousin had never left him two gifts in one year. Still … he had heard Cousin's voice in the hall right before it arrived.

Clutching the little metal object in his hand, he decided he'd better be safe than sorry. He would be punished if he had something in his possession that was not his, whether he was the one to take it or not - especially if it belonged to Cousin. He had learned that lesson very well, and very early. When Cousin returned a few moments later and opened the door, he held out his grimy hand and showed him the pin.

"Where'd that come from?" Dudley asked squinting at the object.

"From under the door," Boy answered back in a horse whisper.

"When?"

Time was all relative to Boy. In the dark little cupboard, he never really knew 'when' it was. He marked the passage of time only from punishment to punishment.

"After I was punished last and before now."

"So … sometime during the Garden Party?"

Boy shrugged. He supposed so. He had been asleep for most of it.

Dudley frowned. The pin had a big 'H' in the centre, surrounded by little animals and a bird. Hm… 'H'. Probably stood for 'Hogwarts'. That was the school those nosy kids went to. One of the girls must have dropped it in the hallway when he caught them in the house earlier. The pin must have somehow been kicked through the crack unnoticed while they were arguing. That means the pin really belongs to one of them. But would they be able to figure out where they lost it once they noticed it was missing?

Fat chance he thought. If they did, he could just deny it. Besides, they didn't seem the type to sweat the small stuff. They all seemed to be a very jolly lot - too jolly for Dudley's liking. The whole lot of them had snickered about his weight when they thought he couldn't hear them. But he did. And it hurt … a lot. Maybe he should just let Boy keep it. It would serve those kids right. Although… it had been rather funny when that one kid called Piers 'little one' in that superior voice of his. Piers was not 'little'. Boy was little. But... Piers _was_ the shortest and thinnest one in his gang and he had black hair like Boy did. What a great idea!

"Then it's yours. It's a lucky pin. Keep it," he told Boy even more confident now that his plan would work.

Boy looked at him hesitantly. He wanted to ask if he was sure, but he wasn't allowed to ask questions, so he just kept his mouth shut. Even so, Dudley could feel the doubt radiating off from him in waves.

"Yes it really is yours," he assured him. "Remember what I told you? All you have to do is say 'finders keepers losers weepers' to make it legal. That makes it yours and nobody can take it away."

"Find 'n keep?" Boy whispered.

"Close enough. It's legally yours now. Now for the fun stuff! Lay face down, cover your ears, and get ready. I'm going to have to make a lot of noise." Dudley ordered him grinning and holding up a wicked looking tool trailing an electrical cord, which he had plugged into the circuit in the hallway. "When I was in the shed earlier I saw this out there. It ought to do the trick!"

Boy lay down as ordered and started to tremble. What was cousin going to do? ANYTHING that involved noise was bad! All it did was attract trouble his way.

Dudley reached out and grabbing hold of the chain, he laid it out along the floor and the stood on it pulling it taut with his feet - one foot close to Boy's neck, the other a scant half meter away. Picking up the drill, he positioned the bit in one of the links and with a squeal of metal on metal, turned it on. At first, the bit caught in the link, causing the motor to whine but then with a shower of sparks the link twisted from the force of the torque, and with a clatter, the two severed ends of the chain popped free.

"Dad always did say he made the best drills in the world and that they could rip through anything. Guess he was right." Dudley snickered at the shocked expression on Boy's face. "Sorry I couldn't take it all the way off but I don't trust cutting any closer to your neck than that," Dudley said apologetically. "But at least its better. Isn't it?" he asked hopefully.

Boy looked down at the short length of chain that still dangled from his collar. Yes, it was better, even though it was still humiliating to be on a leash, even a short one.

For a split second, he wondered if Cousin could possibly take the collar off with the drill. He was more than willing to risk his neck to let him try, but he quickly squashed the rebellious thought. He knew that in reality it could never happen, no matter how good Cousin was with the tool. Only master could remove the collar, Miss Tonks proved that. And Master had also said that morning that he would have to stay on the chain the rest of his life too. So it was right that Cousin left part of the chain attached. It would serve to remind him that even escaped, he was still Master's slave, and still had to follow the rules. It would keep him humble and keep him from getting ideas. He looked up at Cousin with gratitude for his efforts, and then looked at the hole the drill had rudely punched in the floor as it bit through the chain.

"Yes, better … thank you. But I don't think Master and Ma'am will like this very much," he said pointing at the new hole in the floor.

"Hey, they named me 'Dudley' - sometimes I think they don't like me very much either, so what do I care? Now c'mon! We gotta move quickly now. If I woke up Aunt Marge she's sure to wonder what all that noise was about."

Dudley unplugged the drill by pulling it out of the hallway socket by its cord and hid it where his parent's wouldn't be readily see it if they came in. Then putting a finger up to his lips, indicating for Boy to stay quiet he edged down the hall to the foot of the stairs and looked up. Breathing a sigh of relief that he hadn't raised his Aunt's attention, he retraced his steps in the opposite direction and tiptoed to the kitchen. Peering out the kitchen window, to make sure no one was coming, he opened the door to the basement and motioned for Boy.

Boy took a deep breath and stepped into the hall to follow, closing the little cupboard door behind him. However, just as he crossed the threshold into the kitchen, Master and Ma'am's voices came floating in through the cracked open kitchen window. They were on the back porch, arguing with someone new this time, a woman. Her voice made Boy freeze in mid step. It wasn't Miss Tonks' voice but still – it was so familiar he longed to get closer to it. He strained to make out what she was saying but couldn't quite. It was irrational he knew, but he imagined that voice was saying kind soothing words to him and asking to be let in. The voice was telling him that if he could just get up the courage to throw open the door, that everything would be all right, and that he would be safe in her arms. The voice beckoned him.

Boy braced himself for the worst and took one tentative step towards the door.

Nothing happened.

He took another.

The voice was tantalizing – like a warm hug just waiting for him.

A few more steps and he was at the door.

His heart started racing.

He reached out his hand …

"What do you mean I'm DISQUALIFIED FOR CHEATING?" Ma'am screeched, her voice rising to a hitherto unknown pitch that caused Ripper to start howling all the way from upstairs.

"That's preposterous!" boomed Master's voice. "How dare you insinuate that my good wife did any such thing? It is not her fault, but I know whose fault this is! Don't worry Pet - you'll have satisfaction for this outrage!"

The sound of Ma'am's voice broke Boy out the spell and he froze with his hand on the knob – half way turned.

"_I told you that you couldn't go out that way! Now get over here!" _Dudley hissed at him.

'_They're angry! Cousin is right.'_ Boy glanced over his shoulder. The distance across the kitchen to the basement door where Cousin was beckoning him, seemed very far. Much farther than it had been from the hallway.

"Mr. Dursley - are you admitting that Mrs. Dursley DIDN'T do the work for which she is trying to take credit? Is there someone else who is tending to your garden?"

Boy cocked his head to one side. This question came in a man's deep tenor voice – familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, just as the woman's voice had been.

"_PSST! C'mon! C'mon! What are you waiting for? Hurry! It's now or never!_" Cousin urged him on as the knob of back door started to turn the rest of the way on its own in Boy's hand. Boy withdrew his fingers as if they had been burned and stepped back just as the door started to swing open. Master's leg appeared in the opening. Master was starting to come inside!

"I am admitting no such thing Sir!"

"Then why are you running away from our questions?"

"_NOW! Boy - NOW!" _Dudley urged as loud as he dared with his dad within hearing distance. He was just glad that his attention was on whoever was badgering him on the porch, instead of what was going on inside the kitchen.

In one fluid movement, Boy turned and sprinted across the floor. As the back door swung wider, he dove, practically bowling Cousin over in his panic as he slid the rest of the way across the floor. The momentum propelled the two tumbling through the basement door, swinging it shut behind them with an ominous 'CLICK'. They steadied each other at the top of the dark stairs and held their breath.

The sound hadn't been heard.

Safe behind the closed basement door, the two boys held their breath as Master stepped fully into the kitchen with Ma'am close on his heels and slammed the door in the face of the people who had been harassing them.

For better or worse, they knew they were committed to the escape plan now. There was no going back.

"Vernon! What are you going to do?"

"Only what I rightly should have done ten years ago. Now stand aside woman!"

"But Vernon! There are people … _right outside!_"

"As long as that's where they stay, it won't matter a whit!"

"But Vernon! What if …"

Cousin motioned Boy to follow him down the steps.

"Come on! We haven't got much time. As soon as they stop arguing they'll notice you're not in the cupboard."

Boy followed him quickly down the steps and across the floor. He couldn't imagine what Cousin had in mind. It seemed to Boy he was worse off than before. He knew of no other way out of the basement than the door they had just come through. It had no windows. It had no other stairs. The only way out, was back the way they had come - past Master and Ma'am. And now, as Cousin so rightly pointed out, he wasn't where he should have been. Master was going to be angry. Very angry.

Cousin tiptoed down the stairs, pulling Boy behind him, and stopped at the locked Playroom door. That was one place Boy definitely didn't want to go voluntarily. But if Cousin told him to, then he had to do it whether he wanted to or not.

"I stole the key from Dad's desk," Dudley announced proudly as he opened the door very slowly, but even so, the rusty hinges started to let out a low protesting squeal as they were forced to move. The noise didn't faze Cousin in the least. He just grinned and said, "Don't look so worried, I came prepared!" Fishing one of the butter laden croissants from the banquet out of his pocket, he rubbed it on the hinges until they swung open silently. Flipping on the light switch outside the door, Cousin entered the room. When Boy didn't move, he reached out grabbed a hold of the leash and pulled Boy in after him.

Boy could feel his heart skip a beat as Cousin forced him to follow him into the hated room. The little wisp of trust he had placed in Cousin's hands was fading fast. As far as he knew, there was no out of here, he was just becoming more and more trapped, and in bigger and bigger trouble, the longer he followed Cousin. Maybe his first instincts were right, and Cousin was just setting him up to be punished by Master. Maybe he would tell Master that he caught him trying to run away and that he stopped him. Maybe trusting Cousin wasn't such a good idea. But he had gone this far, it couldn't possibly do any more harm to go the rest of the way, he thought. Master was already going to kill him. Master could only do that once as far as Boy knew, unlike some of the other things Master liked to do to Boy.

After rifling through the toolbox for something to pry with, Cousin used the big metal box as a step to heft himself up onto the wooden worktable. Jamming the edge of the flared end of one of Master's toys under a board nailed horizontally on the wall near the soundproofed ceiling, he then used the rest of it as a lever handle with which to pry.

While Cousin was busy, Boy's eyes scanned the little room quickly. He had spent enough time in the playroom that he knew each and every millimetre intimately. From the broken ends of rusty nails imbedded in the seams of the cold cement walls, to the irregular pockmarked floor from when the foundation had been first poured. Both had left their marks on Boy when he had come in contact with them at high rates of speed. It made the scars on his skin ache in sympathy when he looked at them. However the boards were different – they just made him curious.

Boy had always wondered about them as it had seemed an awkward place to store boards. And if one should be in the need of a board in a hurry, he thought it would be very inconvenient to have them secured so soundly. But it wasn't up to him to question Master's rational on the subject, and the only times he had been left alone in the room he had been tied to the cot so he had never had the opportunity to check it out. Now that Cousin had pried off one of the boards he could see that there was a small door behind the planks. Maybe it wasn't a trick after all!

"Damn this is hard to pry with! Had to go out to the shed to get the drill … thought … _(pry … pry … grunt_ …_)_ … that they were going to catch me so I hurried … _(grunt… pant… grunt…)_ … and I completely forgot to look for a crowbar … and this stupid thing was the only thing I could find in Dad's toolbox that would work at all. He's got a lot of stupid stuff in there … _(grunt … pry …)_ … nothing much … _(pry … grunt …)_ … useful at all."

Boy silently agreed with that statement with all his heart. He didn't like any of the things Master kept in his toolbox, but he did think Cousin's creative use of the toy was much improved over that of Master's.

"This room used to be where they stored coal to heat the house. That's why the walls are so thick and the door is metal. And this …" Dudley grunted as he pried off another board, "… this is the access door from the outside that the coal delivery trucks used to fill it."

As Boy was not keeping up his end of the conversation, Dudley kept prattling on nervously as he worked, expecting his dad to walk in and catch them any minute.

"… but Mum thought coal heat was too messy and dirty, and I was just a baby and Mum said it would be too hard on my 'delicate constitution'. She made Dad convert the house right after I was born. I checked it out earlier from the outside. On the other side of this door is the crawl space under the back porch. You go straight ahead and there is an access port next to the steps with a big bush right in front of it. I don't think that Dad even remembers it's here. Ripper chased a cat through it once, that's when I spotted it."

Dudley glanced over his shoulder and sized boy up and down. Yup, he was as small as he thought. This was going to be no problemo!

"It's a tight squeeze, but I'm betting that you can squish through it easy. After you get to the bush you can crawl along the foundation to the side yard next to Number Two - hardly anyone ever walks that way since the gate is on the other side of the house next to the Greenhouse. Anyway, you ought to be able to crossover there to the fence easy enough without being seen. Then stay under in the bushes along the fence until you get to far corner where the compost pile is. Got it so far?"

Dudley checked to make sure Boy was paying attention to his instructions. Boy was watching him intently and nodded at the question. Satisfied Dudley started working on the next to the last board.

"Do you remember the broken board in the fence behind the corner of the shed? You know - the one I hid those cigarettes behind when Piers and I first started smoking? Well, I never fixed it as Dad told me to do, so it's still loose and well … if you're small enough to get out this door, then you're small enough to fit through that hole too. And if you do, you'll come out in the backyard of Number Six. It's been for sale for months, so it's vacant and there is nobody there to see you. The rest of the neighbourhood is mostly empty too, because everyone is here for the announcement that Mum won again. Piers and the gang are all here and they'll help me create a little diversion, so as long as you're as close to the compost pile as you can get before we start, you should have time to get through the hole in the fence before anyone sees you."

Dudley paused in his efforts and gave Boy a long hard look. "So … do you think you can do all that?"

Boy thought long and hard. Cousin had obviously given this escape plan a lot more thought than he had previously given him credit for, and he really didn't see where he had anything to lose by trying. If he didn't try, Master would kill him now. On the other hand if he tried, well Master wouldn't kill him until he caught him. Seemed to Boy that the result was the same either way, one would just take more time than the other would.

Making up his mind, he opted for more time. And this time instead of just nodding, he showed Cousin his sincerity by climbing up on the worktable next to him, and helped him to pull off the last remaining board blocking the exit.

The little coal door was hinged at the bottom so Dudley took hold of the upper edge and hung off from it with all his weight. It protested slightly but then gave way in a shower of dirt and coal dust. A warm breeze, pulled in by the sudden displacement of stale air from the basement, sent dead leaves and bugs swirling in little eddies to the decorate the floor inside.

Coughing and brushing the soot off from his face with the sleeve of his starched white Smelting button-down shirt, Dudley grinned triumphantly at the square patch of dappled sunshine. His plan was working brilliantly!

"Now, after I boost you up, I'm going out to the backyard. I'll give you fifteen minutes. Then I'll make sure that everyone in the backyard is looking in the opposite direction. When you hear me shout 'Smelting rules Hogwarts drool', you get through hole in the fence and run. Run just as fast as you can, as far as you can, and then take the bus to London. You'll be safe there. Remember … just run like hell. That's very important. Don't stop for anything or anyone,_ not even my parents!_"

Boy startled at this order. Run away from Master? But … but that was against the rules!

The question and doubt was obvious on Boy's face, making Dudley sigh heavily.

"Look … remember? I'm the one in charge of you right now, so I'm making the rules, and what I say goes. So when I say you run, then you've got to do it. And that's an order! You got it?"

Boy nodded again, slightly scared, and slightly excited. He was going out! In the daytime! _WITH PERMISSION!_

He always hated that he had no free will and was forced to follow all of Master's rules, whether they made sense of not. But this was one time that he didn't think he minded so much. Cousin was ordering him to leave, and he had to do whatever he was ordered to do by his betters. That was one of Master's rules, and he couldn't break Master's rules, the collar made sure of that. And he when he thought about it, the rule to do everything his betters said had been in place far longer than the one saying he couldn't run from Master. He supposed that if he had to obey one rule over the other, than the oldest one was the one to not break. Cousin was right - he had to leave. He had to run. He didn't have a choice. Besides running sounded so much better than being turned into fertilizer, and he had never been allowed to run before, except in his dreams and he was itching to try it.

"Oh yeah, that reminds me! Dad said that being a slave that you have to have lots and lots of rules to live by or you'll do something stupid. So since you've never been farther than the yard before, I better give you some new ones for living in London so you don't get yourself killed right off the bat. Let's see now …"

Boy had to admit he was a little disappointed that Cousin remembered about that, however he knew he should have asked for them himself if none were offered.

"Okay, Rule Number One: stay away from girls! Dad says they're nothing but trouble and I agree. They really aren't good for much anyway, they mostly just make your life hell. Rule Number Two, and this is a real good one because Mum told it to me - Rule Number Two is never take candy from strangers. But don't worry you can still get the candy, I found out a long time ago that if you kick 'em in the ankle, they'll just drop it anyways. And that's where Rule Number Three comes in, that the 'five second rule'. I learned this one on the playground. It says that if something good to eat falls on the ground, and you pick it up before the count of five, its okay if you go ahead and eat it. Let's see … Rule Number Four, this one's my own and believe me it works - if you ever get into trouble with someone bigger than you - hit low, hit hard, and run fast! Oh and Number Five, whatever else you do … for God's sake try to blend in! Got all that?"

Boy carefully hid his frown and left only a slight puzzled look on his face. He understood … mostly, but that didn't mean he liked it. In fact, he didn't like the first rule AT ALL! Miss Tonks was a girl! The second one was easy though, he'd already promised that to Tigger. The third and the fourth he was a little iffy on doing, however he supposed if they ever came up it would be another one of Piglet's 'depends'. It was the really last one that he was stumped on. What did Cousin mean to blend in? The only blending Boy had ever done was with cake batter.

"What?" Dudley put his hands on his hips in frustration. If he'd know it would be _this _difficult to help Boy, he might not have tried.

Boy cautiously held up five fingers. He knew he was starting to anger Cousin, but it couldn't be helped - he really didn't know what he was talking about.

"Five? What's so difficult about rule five? That's one's easy-peasy. Oh … I get it. I guess you've never had to do that before have you? Okay - how to explain? Hm …" Dudley thought and he thought fast. In the little soundproof room it was hard to tell what was happening in the rest of the house, or how close his parents were to discovering Boy wasn't where they left him. "Blending in is a lot like hiding and not letting anyone see you. You know how to do that right?"

Boy nodded his agreement. He knew how to hide very well.

"So when you blend-in you still hide, but in plain sight. It's going to be impossible in London to never let anyone see you at all - so what you have to do is just make sure when they do see you they don't pay any attention. If you look like everyone else, and do what everyone else is doing, then you'll blend in and won't draw any attention to yourself. Get it?"

Boy gave a guarded nod of understanding. He thought he understood. He just didn't know how he was going to accomplish that being as hideous and awkward as he was.

"That's settled then. Now it's time for you to go."

Cousin laced his fingers together to make a foot hold and boosted Boy up to the small coal chute where he wiggled through bit by bit until all of him, right down to his too big trainers, had finally disappeared through the little door. However, as soon as he was through, Boy stuck his head back through the hole. For a moment Dudley thought he was going to come back in, but instead he followed Boy's gaze to the floor where the blanket bundle sat forlorn. Dudley retrieved it and started to hand it up to him when his eyes locked onto Boy's grateful green eyes. It was seldom Dudley ever saw Boy's eyes. Usually they were trained on the ground in deference to his station.

If only …

"You know something? I think if you had been born a normal boy … instead of a slave … I think that -_thatwemighthave _ … _hadfungrowinguptogether_." Embarrassed, Dudley handed the bundle to him. "Um … that's all I wanted to say … that we might have been … um … friends. And I think I would have … um … kinda not entirely hated that."

Boy thought that Cousin sounded as if he actually meant it. Then the moment passed with a door being slammed angrily somewhere upstairs. It was the vibration from the sound shock waves that they felt in the soundproof room, rather than the sound itself, but it was enough to spur Dudley back into action. He could tell by the panicked look in Boy's eyes that he was already regretting their deal. Dudley put out a hand to stop Boy from diving head first back in through the coal chute.

"Don't you see Boy?" he pleaded. "No matter what you do, Dad is never going to be pleased - so for once you might as well please yourself." Then Dudley pushed Boy's head back outside and pressed the boards back into place as best he could without a hammer and then scrambled down off from the worktable. Working quickly to remove any trace of how Boy had escaped, he shoved the toolbox back under the table and then brushed all the dirt and dust into a pile with his hands and shoved it under the cot.

With a final glance around, to make sure everything was back where his father had left it, he tiptoed quietly back up the stairs and put an ear to the door. When he couldn't hear anything, he cautiously opened it a crack and peered out. Not seeing his parents in the room, Dudley hurried through the kitchen and into the hall to retrieve the drill from where he had hidden it in the living room under a sofa cushion, and then slipped back through the kitchen and snuck out the door - just as the sounds of his Dad searching upstairs for Boy reached him.

"Boy! Where the hell are you hiding? Come out this instant - I command you!" His dad was angry, and getting angrier by the minute.

"Vernon! Please calm down! He's not worth it …"

"I will not calm down until I get everything I deserve!"

Dudley pulled the door closed behind him, cutting off the rest of their argument with a disgusted shake of his head. It made him feel like abandoning his plans to save everyone, and let them get what they deserved. He could easily do that by sneaking off with his friends to the cinema, and letting he chips falls where they may, but he had promised Boy.

First things first, he still needed to put the drill away. However, there were at least fifty people milling in the yard between him and the shed. He had been lucky earlier when he had got the drill out - everyone had been too busy staring at his parents getting into a row with the judges to notice what he was doing, but with them in the house he would now be the centre of attention if he slogged through their midst covered in dirt and wielding a drill. He could hear his mum now - 'Normal people don't go to Garden Fete's with dirty face and hands' and 'Normal people certainly don't go to Garden Fete's carrying drills'. Nope, Mum would not approve, not one bit.

"Oh to heck with it, I don't care what Mum says - 'normal people' don't hang out at Garden Fete's to begin with," he said dropping the drill off the edge of the porch into the bushes. Then shoving his hands in his pockets, he sauntered off whistling towards the buffet table where he could see the kid named Ron scarfing down a plate of cucumber sandwiches.

Boy rubbed his head where he had been conked on the head by the falling drill, and kneeled so he could peek out through the rhododendron bush by the step. Unaccustomed to the bright sunlight he was temporarily blinded and had to blink until his watery eyes cleared. When they did, he could see Cousin looking oh-so-nonchalant as he strolled toward the buffet. Boy gave him an admiring glance. He didn't know how Cousin could remain so calm when Boy himself could scarcely breathe from the excitement. Both Eeyore and Cousin had told him now that he should please himself. Maybe they were right, because being outside in the daylight was so adventurous! Even if Master killed him now he could die happy.

As Cousin neared the table, he was joined by two other boys and the trio quickly formed a huddle, with Cousin doing most of the whispering and gesturing. Boy had an inkling that the boys must be the friends that Cousin had mentioned. He had never seen them, but he had often heard them pounding up the stairs over his head when they came over to play. Boy thought that they might be plotting the diversion that Cousin had mention and decided he'd better start doing as he'd been ordered to. He needed to get to the compost heap before Cousin gave the signal to run, that was in the furthest corner of the yard from his current hiding spot. Between him and it, were more people than what he ever knew could possibly exist. Surely, everyone in the world was in Ma'am garden!

… and … if everyone in the world was there … then so would be Miss Tonks!

Scanning the crowd for a bright spot of pink that would be Miss Tonks, Boy was disappointed when the only pink he saw at all was a jumper on a golden haired girl with her back to him. She was with another girl with white blond hair who was even smaller than he was. Boy peered at first girl doubtfully. Maybe Miss Tonks shrunk? He fished the glasses out of the bundle and put them on to get a closer look. The taller girl in pink looked friendly from the back just like Miss Tonks did but he couldn't see if her nose was changing shape. Boy inched closer to the edge of the yard. Suddenly both girls turned his way and he dropped flat to the ground, his cheek pressed into the dirt.

They looked right at him!

They looked right at him and …

and …

… and nothing is happening?

Today was truly a day of unexpected things.

With wonder Boy sat up with his eyes still squeezed shut, his heart racing, and his back pressed to the foundation. He fully expected a representative of the law to suddenly clamp down on his shoulder and haul him away to prison for being seen. When several minutes went by and again nothing happened, his heartbeat slowed to a normal pace. Maybe they hadn't seen him after all. It was the only explanation he could think of.

Boy peered back out of the rhododendron. The girls were no longer anywhere to be seen but Cousin seemed to be getting ready to do something. The huddle had broken up and one of his friends was high-tailing it out of the garden, dodging and weaving through the crowd and ended up running smack into a tall man with long black greasy hair in the process.

Prior to the collision, the tall man had been squatting near the compost pile pointing out something on the ground to an older woman with glasses. They both had rather harsh expressions on their grim faces making Boy wondered if these were the police - the ones with whom Master had threatened him. As he pondered that possibility, the tall man started to straighten back up with the object of his scrutiny in his hand. That was when Cousin's friend rammed him right in the solar plexus. The blow was so sudden and forceful that it knocked the tall man's feet in the air, his boots flying through the air and landing in the grass right in front of Boy, and his bum landing hard in the ripe refuse. The tall man looked as though he intended to arrest Cousin's friend on the spot, and the older woman with him started to laugh. Boy speculated that she was probably laughing about what would happen to Cousin's friend in prison. A cold shiver ran up his spine just thinking about it. He would have to make very sure that those two, in particular, did not catch him escaping.

Boy took off the pair of glasses and repacked them for safekeeping, and after considerable thought, he took off the too big trainers, tied what was left of their laces together, and slung them over his shoulders. Cousin had told him to run as fast as he could, and he knew if he tried doing that in those shoes he would be sure to trip and fall right in front of the police officers. Thus better prepared, he started inching his way along the house. He hadn't gone but a half meter when a small sound caught his attention.

_You ssssshould trrruuussst himmmm … trrruuussst himmmm littttle oneee … trrruuussst …_

Boy thought that by this time that he would be immune to being shocked by unexpected happenings, but even after all that had happened today, the last thing he expected were for two little metal snakes to slither out of the grass and start talking to him. Boy peered at them closely to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him again. They weren't. He knew those snakes! They belonged to the dinner guest - Mr. Brown. So … what were they doing on the tall policeman's boots?

Boy had to think hard about that one … could the tall policeman and Mr. Brown, be one and the same person? If they weren't, then Boy had to wonder just how many people there could possibly be in the world. Could there be two for each person he already knew about? Surely not that many! There were already forty or so crowded into Ma'am garden. Twice that would be almost a hundred! Where would they all fit? Even thinking about that many people existing in the world made Boy feel claustrophobic.

It made far more sense to him that they were one and the same man. However, that conclusion led Boy to an even more worrisome possibility. The dinner guest - Mr. Brown, knew Dumbledore - the other dinner guest, Mr. White. So … was Mr. Dumbledore White here somewhere as well? If so … than Cousin's plan _WAS_ a trick! Mr. White must have known somehow that he was trying to escape!

Boy sucked in his breath and backed up.

_Sssssstillllll noooooo? … … Verrrrry well littttle oneee … … thennnnn trrruuussst ussssssss you mussssst … … trrruuussst … … weeeee willlll ssssssshow youuuuu the waaaaay … folllllllow ussssssss you mussssst …_

Boy didn't see where he had a choice but to follow them as they had ordered him to. However, it didn't mean that he couldn't be wary of traps while he did it. With heart in his throat, he started crawling along the foundation of the house following the little snakes. As he was being extremely careful to slither under branches and over exposed roots, just as the snakes were doing, it seemed to Boy as if it took forever to reach the point where the side yard was at its narrowest. That way there was no indication in the foliage above that anything was moving in the shadowy depths of the generous plantings.

Next to the actual escape, the next step carried the most risk of discovery. Boy would have to leave the safety of the foundation plantings, and cross the side yard out in the open to reach the relative safety of the giant hydrangea clump at the side-yard fence line. Once there, there were enough bushes and hidey-holes for him to remain hidden from sight - right up until the final sprint over the compost pile and through the hole in the fence marked by the broken board.

_Weeeeee mussssst leeeeeve youuuuu nooooooow … … littttle oneee … … ourrrrr maaassssssterrrr issssss … … commmmming tttttthisssss waaaaay … … weeeeee ssssssstillllll thiiiink you ssssshoulllld trrruuussst himmmm … … yessssss … … trrruuussst himmmm littttle oneee … trrruuussst …_

Boy had been raised to go out of his way to please as much as possible, whenever possible, and with no regard for his own desires or safety, so he felt guilty when he disappointed the little snakes by shaking his head 'no'. However, since they had just offered their opinion, and didn't outright order him to trust Mr. Brown, Boy felt safe in timidly standing up for his own viewpoint for a change. In a small way, he thought that Piglet and his friends from the woods would have been proud of him for doing so. So in essence, he _was_ still pleasing somebody. And his friends in the woods far outnumbered two little snakes.

The little snakes just nodded their sleek metal heads, accepting his decision, and slithered away into the warm grass. When they offered no protest, Boy felt quite pleased with his self, and slightly amazed - even a short hour earlier he wouldn't have had the nerve to have done that. But Piglet had always told him that sometimes you had to be braver than your size, and starting out on this adventure had given him that spark of courage.

Even though he was still afraid of the strange little snakes, Boy was apprehensive to see them go as it meant he was once again on his own. Following them with his eyes, he saw them head in a sinuous path back to where Mr. Brown's boots had fallen. Once there, they slithered up the iridescent leather to nestle on the shiny buckles looking as innocent as two little silver snakes engravings could be. They had not returned even a minute too soon, as the boots were immediately plucked up into the air and out of Boy's sight. One of the snakes winked at Boy as it disappeared skyward.

The conspiratorial wink made Boy wonder about how the little snakes had known to return to the boots just then, and then what had moved the boots after they did. He wasn't used to having more than three people, four when Miss visited, to keep track of at any one time and having all these extra people around was all very disconcerting. The feeling gave him pause and stopped him from plunging headlong through the gap. Something, or someone, he hadn't accounted for, must have attracted them. Boy was still pondering this possibility when the black sock covered feet of Mr. Brown stopped right in front of him – mere centimetres from his nose!

The boots reappeared suddenly, dropping onto the grass next to the feet, and then Mr. Brown started shoving his long thin feet back into them. Boy couldn't help but notice that while the boots had been polished until the exotic leather shone, that the man's socks had holes in them - on _**both**_ heels and toes! How did Mr. Brown's slave get away with such shabby work?

As it was all he was accustom to, it didn't occur to Boy, that not everyone had a slave at their beck and call, and that all of those countless slaves were not treated as he was. Therefore, the only conclusion he could come up with was that Mr. Brown's slave wasn't doing a very good job and should be thrashed soundly and often to teach him to make a better effort – at least that method had always been effective on him. He had absolutely no doubt that Master would beat him if he had left Master's laundry in the same deplorable condition!

"I must say - that was quite an entertaining display, but not exactly 'discreet'," a woman's amused voice reached Boy's ears.

"I will not dignify that observation with a reply," Mr. Brown snarled back.

"And yet you did," the woman laughed again. Boy cocked his head and listened. It was a quiet refined laugh. Not a bit Miss Tonks' delightful giggle or Ma'am's high-pitched titter, or Miss's loud guffaws.

"Does your following me serve any purpose other than unrestrained mockery?"

"Why can't it be that I just prefer your company?"

"Because no one prefers my company, not even me." Mr. Brown snorted derisively, hopping on one foot as he tried to reboot his foot standing up.

"Here let me help you …"

"I can do it myself," he barked.

"You sound just like a first year."

"Speaking of first years – I do believe you failed to notice that one of your quarries emerged from seclusion a few moments ago."

"He did?"

"You should be able to spot the boy quite clearly from here, even without your spectacles."

In an effort to make himself as small and unnoticeable as possible Boy silently leaned back against the foundation of the house and as far away from the two pair feet as he could get. Wrapping his arms around his legs he squeezed his knees to his chest and then tucked down his chin to hide his face and curled up his bare toes. He was sorely regretting the change in wardrobe at this moment even though the ones Cousin made him put on, although used and decidedly worn, were in much better condition. The black colour he normally wore helped him feel like an unnoticed shadow around The Family, while the ones Cousin made him put on were loud in contrast in his opinion. They practically screamed 'look at me'. It was a most uncomfortable feeling for Boy.

"Where? Are you sure? I don't see Harry …" the woman's voice asked with a note of excitement.

'_That figures,'_ Boy thought. _'She's looking for that boy named Harry just as everyone else is.'_

"No, not Potter - the other one … Dursley. There by the refreshment table."

'_Cousin? They're looking for Cousin too? Well that makes sense … Cousin is very smart, and everyone knows he's perfect. Who wouldn't want Cousin – would be a better question.'_

"Him? That's my new student? I saw him earlier greeting guests by the gate as we came in, but thought… I don't know what I thought… he's so unlike Lily Potter. Are you sure he is her nephew?"

"Quite sure - takes after the father's side."

"But he's – he's so …" the woman's voice changed from excited to dismayed, in the space of a syllable.

"… eleven?" Mr. Brown tactfully finished her sentence for her as he succeeded in pulling on the second boot with stomp and an 'oomph!'

"No, that's not it - he's just not what I expected."

"If not as I previously described - muggle raised, overindulged, and spoiled - what else could you have been expecting?"

"I don't know … maybe just not as much of him."

"A year of running stairs, from the Gryffindor tower to the Potions Lab in the dungeons, should take care of that."

"Gryffindor?" the woman gasped sounding offended. "Why not Slytherin?"

"You don't expect anyone even remotely related to Lily Evans to end up in the snake pit now do you?" Mr. Brown laughed, but Boy didn't hear anything at all jolly in his tone. It sounded more sarcastic. "Now hadn't you best attend to that 'important business' you mentioned on our way in?"

A shout and a loud clatter came from the direction of the buffet table, and the woman sighed deeply.

"Must I?"

"Yes, you must. That is why the Headmaster pays you the 'big bucks' - not me."

Boy was so far back in the foliage he couldn't see out any longer, but he could hear a rustle of cloth signalling that the woman was leaving.

"And remember Mindy - discretion," Mr. Brown smirked after her. At the use of the cutesy nickname, the stern woman stopped dead in her tracks and looked back at him with a scowl, just as he knew she would.

Minerva had always thought her name was fine, just the way it was, and had to grit her teeth at the jolly wave Severus gave her in return. Shuddering she stalked away. At least it wasn't the 'Minnie' that the Headmaster persisted in tagging her.

Boy wasn't positive but he thought the man was laughing again – it was either that or he was choking on something he ate.

"Merlin! I thought she would never leave," the man snarked under his breath. "Amateurs, I am surrounded by rank amateurs. Much more of their 'help' and I would never get the job done. If they had all just listened to me and left when I told them to, I would have been done hours ago and already be back in my Dungeon. Now, to locate Potter's brat so I can put an end to this horrendous fete once and for all."

Boy hoped that for his own sake, that Mr. Brown would get his wish, and soon. It would certainly solve a multitude of problems for him if he made all the people leave Ma'am's garden. With them gone he could escape in peace. However, at this point Boy would settle for just the man himself leaving, for until he did, there was no way he could make it unseen to the other side of the yard.

Severus faced the house and pulled out his wand. Placing it on his open palm, he cast a locater spell.

"_Invenio Locus Potter!"_

Boy couldn't tell what was happening, but from the sound of the man's voice when he said the strange words, Mr. Brown obviously expected something to occur.

"Bah! You are of no help at all! You seem to think Potter is standing directly in front of me when I know he has to be in that godforsaken house somewhere! NOW SHOW ME WHERE HE IS OR I'LL TAKE YOU BACK TO OLIVANDER AND TRADE YOU IN!"

Apprehension washed over Boy at the man's demand for information. Should he have answered? He didn't think that Mr. Brown was talking to him – but then Master always said that he didn't know how to think, so maybe he had been. After all, the woman had left and Boy hadn't heard anyone else about, so who else could he be talking to? On the other hand, Mr. Brown was also a stranger, so the rule was that Boy had to hide from him. He didn't think that Cousin's amendment about 'blending in' was applicable quite yet as he was still in Master's garden. Was it possible to hide, and to do as the man bid at the same time, as he had at first with Miss Tonks? Boy didn't think so as he had quite clearly heard Ma'am order both the dinner guests to leave, and yet here one of them was again. Boy was just so confused. The only thing he was absolutely sure about was that he would gladly show Mr. Brown where the Potter boy was … if only he knew himself.

"DO YOU HEAR ME YOU INFERNAL TWIG? INVENIO LOCUS POTTER! INVENIO LOCUS! INVENIO LOCUS I SAY! … BAH!"

"SIR! I will have you keep your voice down! There are NORMAL people here and I will NOT have you spouting any of that hibberdy-gibberdy in my garden where they might hear you! It is NOT NORMAL!"

'_Master!' _ Boy's head snapped up and his heart stopped. '_He sounds even madder than he did earlier!'_

"And what would you know about 'normal' Dursley?"

"I will have you know that I have the most normal family in Little Whinging, thank you very much!"

"Abnormal perhaps, but that is a close as it comes."

"Codswallop! Petunia and I are pillars of our community! Why else do you think all our friends and neighbours are here, if not to give us our just dues? And we would have got it if your lot hadn't have mucked it up."

"Perhaps there was just nothing good showing at the local Cinema?"

"That's it! I tried to be a good host and welcome one and all, but I will not be sniggered at. I already threw two others of your kind out, and I would appreciate it if you would follow them forthwith!"

"My … kind? I'm afraid you will have to be more specific."

"Interfering busy-bodies who think they know everything, that's what kind!"

"Ah … that would have been the Weasleys. You don't have to worry - I'm not that kind at all. I don't just 'think' I know everything, far from it Dursley - I know that I do. Actually, maybe you should worry."

"I will not be threatened! Get out!"

"That solution is unacceptable. I was forced to purchase a non-refundable ticket to this event and an exorbitant price, and I am inclined to demand my money's worth. A concept that I am positive you can identify with."

"Give me that!"

"Not until I have what I have come for Dursley. I don't know how you managed to lie to Headmaster Dumbledore, despite the veritaserum, but you will not lie to me. Now where is he?"

Mr. Dumbledore White! So he _was_ here! The very thought of the man made Boy start to tremble, and he quickly reasoned that everyone else who knew of him must be just as afraid as he. Coming to that realization made Boy feel an immediate empathetic connection with Mr. Brown. Dumbledore was very powerful and very tricky. He was probably forcing him to do things he didn't want to, just as he forced Master to do things to Boy! It certainly explained why the man would talk to Master so brazenly, and why it was that he didn't leave Master's garden when he obviously wasn't welcome.

"It is _**Mister Dursley**_ to _you_, sir. And If I am to be grilled on my own property I have a right to know what you are jabbering on about! _ Where is who?_"

"You know who – Potter," Mr. Brown spit out at Master.

"Do not snap at me! And get that stick out of my face!"

From Master's tone, Boy knew that his face was growing red and the vein in his neck was throbbing with every word.

"I have not 'snapped' yet Dursley. However, I assure you, if you try my patience much longer that you will be the very first to know when I do."

Although Mr. Brown maintained a very calm monotone, the syllables of the last few words had been drawn out and Boy could feel that he was just as angry as Master. He idly wondered if Mr. Brown had a throbbing vein in his neck too.

"As I said before - **I** do **NOT** have him and I have absolutely no idea where he is! You can see for yourself, Sir, that _**IS**_ the truth," Master spit back with equal venom.

"Thank you for the invitation Dursley, I _will_ take you up on it … _'Legilimens'!"_

Boy re-hid his face in his bony knees. Absolutely no good could come of this! Didn't Mr. Brown know that Master was already upset? Challenging his authority would only make it worse! No one **EVER** challenged Master's authority! Didn't Mr. Brown know that it wasn't allowed? If only Cousin wasn't forcing him to escape, then Master might not be so very angry. But as it was, if Mr. Brown wasn't careful, Master would punish him too - just as he had Miss Tonks and it would all be Boy's fault again. Boy didn't want anyone to be hurt on his account, not even someone who knew Mr. Dumbledore White. He wished Mr. Brown and everyone else would just go away – and he wished … he wished he … he wished he were back safe in his little cupboard! He had to undo this! He had to get back to where he should be, so that Master would be happy again!

Boy's breathing sped up until he was on the verge of hyperventilating. The harder he wished, the more he could feel the uneven ground under him level off, and the texture beneath his bare feet begin to feel like the rough floorboards of the cupboard. Even the flat cement foundation behind his tender back felt as if it had changed into the thick wooden studs of the wall. It was impossible he knew, but he really felt that if he opened his eyes at that moment, that all he would see was the darkness of the inside of his little cupboard under the stairs. He started to open his eyelids a crack, and then Master's angry voice pulled him back to reality with an order he had no choice but to obey.

"STOP THAT THIS INSTANT!"

It happened so fast, that Boy felt like sicking up. But there was nothing in his stomach to be sick on.

"Gladly, I've seen quite enough," Mr. Brown sneered, "and after seeing it, I still have a hard time believing you could treat your nephew that way. And for what - _money_?"

Boy stuck his fingers in his ears and wiggled them around to clear them out. He must have heard wrong, it had almost sounded as if Mr. Brown thought there was something wrong with money. But that didn't make sense, Master said money was_ everything_. And Master would know - he had all of it, and what he didn't have, Boy owed him.

"That _thing_ is _**not**_ MY nephew – he's my slave! He's nothing but an abnormal abomination, a freak, a total waste of space. In fact he's only good for one thing … and you know what that is. After all, your sort knows_ all_ about that kind of thing, I hear it is commonplace among your lot."

Slave? Master and Mr. Brown were talking about him and about what he really was! Boy was felt so ashamed he wanted to die - right there under the hydrangea. But he supposed that doing so would be an inconvenience to Master who would then have to lug his dead body clear across the garden over to the rose bed. That would be hot sweaty work. Master hated hot sweaty work - that was what Boy was for. He would just have manage to die closer to the other side of the garden.

"Have it your way … your slave then," Mr. Brown said coolly. "I see that for the right price you would turn the boy over to a buyer – any buyer at all, even say … myself? Is that a correct assumption?"

Mr. Brown wanted to buy him? Boy held his breath for Master's answer.

"I demand at least £50,000 pounds and not a coin less. A paltry sum at best considering the time and effort I put into training him."

"Slightly overpriced for something that you can't readily lay your hands. Shall we knock off a few zeros for the inconvenience - say … £500 pounds?"

Boy's tried to swallow down his fear of what was happening, but the back of his throat was too dry to let him. He didn't know if he wanted Master to agree to sell him or not. His fear of the unknown was petrifying. If Master sold him, than the threat of being fertilizer would be gone. But why would anyone else want him? What if Mr. Brown was only buying him just to give him to Mr. White! That would be even worse!

"Sir, you are trying to cheat me! I already have a firm offer of £25,000 pounds!"

"Now who is trying to cheat whom? You had the nerve to try and charge me £50,000 pounds."

"Certainly! To be taken seriously, any counter-offer would have to best the one currently on the table."

"A firm offer on nothing? I think not. And if I am correct about who made the offer, I believe that you know it too. £5,000 pounds take it, or leave it Dursley."

"Cash?"

"I have something of equal value in mind."

Boy no longer had to hold his breath – he wasn't breathing anyway.

"What? Mind you I will not accept an I.O.U."

"This is what. It's worth that sum, and more."

Boy felt his heart sink. If Mr. Brown bought him at that price, he would never be able to work hard enough, or long enough, to pay it off! It was twice his entire debt! Boy couldn't imagine what could be worth such an astronomical sum, but he knew it wasn't him and that Mr. Brown would regret the bargain as soon as he laid eyes on him.

"What do you take me for – a fool?"

Boy shuddered, Master sounded really angry. Whatever it was Mr. Brown handed him apparently wasn't up to Master's very high standards! Boy pitied Mr. Brown, Master was sure to punish him now.

"I do not take you for a fool Dursley - quite the contrary. But you are wasting my time, which is a very foolish thing to do. Now do you accept my offer or not?"

… _(click!)…_

Boy edged forward. He knew that sound!

It was such a tiny thin sound, one that a normal person might not even notice, or if they did - they would dismiss it as of no consequence. But as Master had said time after time, Boy was not normal, and Boy had heard that same sound enough times that it was now etched forever in his memory. It was the sound of Master's little silver knife coming out 'to play'.

Peeking up through the hydrangea leaves Boy could see that Master was standing with his back towards him, with one hand held behind. Boy let out a barely perceptible gasp when he saw the sun glint off from the shiny knife dancing in Master's thick fingers. As Master was standing between him and Mr. Brown, Boy knew that the other man couldn't possibly know of the danger he was in. Master was very quick with his knife.

"Here's what I think of your … _'offer', _Sir!"

As Master started to move, Boy panicked and did the only thing he could think of - he tried to grab the knife out of his hand. He knew that he couldn't hurt Master, but he could try to prevent him from hurting someone else. Unbeknownst to him, the muggle-repelling charm that his beloved Miss Tonks had placed on him was still in effect, so instead of being able to reach the knife, his movement towards his master only added momentum to Vernon Dursley's existing forward motion, causing him to stagger into Mr. Brown. The end result being an awkward lurch and Master falling clumsily to the ground, instead of the fluid deadly thrust Vernon had intended.

"Hey that's not fair! If you get to use a trip-jinx on Dursley - why can't I do just one little Crucio?"

More people! Boy quickly pulled his exposed arm back into the hydrangea and out of sight. He had thought he had lost track of Master's little knife, but then he saw something silver and shiny drop into the grass, something that glinted green and twinkled like a star as it fell. Boy couldn't remember anything green on the knife, but what else could it have been? Master also noticed the object fall, and Boy saw him purposely put his hand over it as pretended to stumble getting back up. When he moved his hand again, the shiny green thing was gone.

"One - because I did not. Watch it there Dursley! See? The oaf is naturally graceless. And two - because the Headmaster said so."

"No three? There are always three."

"Not always."

"Yes always."

"You know, when you whinge like that you sound just like Black."

"If you think that insults me, you're wrong."

"I am never wrong."

"Except all the times when you are, such as now. How about just a small conjunctivitis curse?"

"No."

"Give me a reason then."

"Very well, if you must have a third …" Mr. Brown sighed.

"I must," the other man insisted.

"Three - because it would hurt Potter too, and I believe it was your intention to prevent that from happening - not to cause it."

"I didn't think you cared about James' son, or that you even thought he was here."

"I don't. Now why are you bothering me?" Mr. Brown sounded annoyed to Boy.

"Fine, be that way! I was just trying to be friendly!" the second man snapped back angrily.

"Then you succeeded. You are indeed trying."

"Look, I'm only here because I saw Dursley come out of the house and go this way. Dumbledore wants to talk with him. Help me get him up. Don't worry, I promise not to kill him … yet."

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF FROM ME!"

"Don't get your nose out of joint Dursley… heh-heh…. oh that's right it already is! Here let me help you out and pop it back in," Mr. Black said reaching out and wrenching Master's nose, causing the later to wail in pain.

When his Master began bellowing, and the other two men renewed their argument, Boy covered his ears in an attempt to block them all out. _'Just go away! Please … everybody just go away!'_ he repeated the request over and over in his mind.

As if the men had heard his silent pleas, the side yard suddenly became peaceful and quiet as they took their quarrelling around the corner of the house. Only the sounds from the crowd in the main part of the garden remained, but as the foliage and distance muted it - as much as his cupboard had always muted the discordant sounds of the Dursley's, it was oddly comforting to Boy.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Boy inched forward to the edge of the bed. Crouching low below the big fuzzy leaves reminded him of hunting Huffalumps with Tigger in the Hundred Acre Wood. He looked right, and he looked left. The only thing moving within eyeshot was an inquisitive dragonfly. It was now or never, and never wasn't one of his options. In one graceful movement Boy clutched his bundle to his chest, dropped one shoulder, and executed a neat flip and roll into the open space just as Tigger had taught him. Then he kept rolling until he came to rest on his back below the holly shaped leaves of the sweetspire on the opposite side.

He made it!

All the physical activity had aggravated his wounded back and he had to breathe shallowly through several spasms until he felt as if he could move again. Bushing the pollen from the pale green catkins off from his face with one hand, he felt beneath him with the other, in search of the object that he had landed on that was now pressing into his tender back. Coming into contact with something cold and hard Boy pulled out his hand and was shocked to see Master's little silver knife. He thought that Master had picked it back up after he had dropped it, but apparently not, for here it was! Boy's fingers instinctively flew open to drop it, as he wasn't ever to touch anything of Master's without permission, and the open blade nicked his palm as it slid off.

"Ow!"

Sucking on his hand to stop the bleeding he tentatively nudged a twig with his big toe, which in turn nudged the knife.

It just lay there, looking very innocent. As if drawing blood had been a complete accident on its part.

Intrigued, Boy nudged it up on its side.

It teetered, and then fell over, powerless to defy gravity. Boy didn't know what to make of it. He had always imagined the little silver knife possessed a sentient life of its own, and that it took a keen pleasure in helping Master to torture him.

At first Boy turned his back on it and started to crawl away from it as quick as he could. But he kept glancing back with a look of worry etched on his thin features. He wasn't sure what he was expecting the knife to do - maybe sprout legs and run after Master and bear witness to what a horrid slave Boy was being - but it just continued to lay where he left it. Having second thoughts, he backed up. Without it being wielded in Master's cruel hand, it turned out to just a piece of metal. Rabbit had taught Boy many things, one of which was how to make good use of things discarded by others, such as the pitcher and bucket.

'_A knife could come in handy when I get to London … and Master did lose it … and I did find it … if I hadn't, it would have laid here under the sweetspire until it was all dull and rusty, and no good to anyone … now how did that go again? Oh yeah … I remember …'_

"Finder keeps!"

Boy's shaking hand hovered over the knife waiting to see if the collar would object to his brazen action on Master's lost possession, but the smooth metal ring stayed silent on the subject. Cousin was right!

"Do you know what that means little knife? That means legally you're _mine_ now. And if you're _mine_, then you-you can't hurt _me_ anymore … right? Er … if that's okay with you?" He asked the knife its permission as an afterthought, just to cover all the bases. Since the knife didn't voice any objection either, and since little shiny silver things had already proven to him that they could talk when they wanted to, Boy closed it carefully and tucked it into his bundle with satisfaction. Quite pleased with himself, he again started to make his way along the fence, but this time a slow grin appeared. He liked this new law that Cousin gave him - it was going to be as useful as the nice sharp knife!

The well laden buffet table in the centre of the garden was attracting most of Ma'am's guests, and it was difficult for Boy to not steal glances that way to check on how they were enjoying the feast. However, Boy was on a do or die mission and refilling platters was not part of it. He was certain that he must have already used up the fifteen minutes Cousin had allotted him, what with being trapped in the side yard for so long by the argument, but he finally arrived at the spot near the compost heap where Cousin had told him to wait for the signal. Leaning back against the fence in the cool shade of the glossy ilex he wiped his sweaty brow with his arm.

All things considered, Boy thought he had done fairly well at his assigned task. Cousin hadn't given the signal yet so he had arrived there in time, and he had managed to secure a rather helpful tool for himself along the way! In addition, he had only had three perilously close calls when he had almost been seen, and all of those instances he could blame on one thing - the man who had interrupted the argument in the side yard earlier between Master and Mr. Brown.

'_What was it Mr. Brown had called him? Oh yeah … Black, that was it!' _Boy thought the two men were definitely misnamed, as from what he'd seen of Mr. Brown from the knees down, all he wore was black whereas the second man, Mr. Black, wore all brown.

Boy had occasionally caught a brief glimpse of Mr. Black through the leaves as he navigated the circuitous course around the perimeter of the garden. And whenever Boy stopped moving, Mr. Black had stopped too. It was probably coincidence but it was disturbing. It seemed to Boy almost as if the man was tracking him, just as Miss's dog Ripper was wont to do – with nose in the air trying to catch the scent of his prey.

However, the most disturbing thing about Mr. Black was the way his face was continually changing. He didn't change it the same way that Miss Tonks changed her face and hair, that made him laugh. Instead, it was just his expression, and it puzzled boy. Master and Ma'am had only ever had one expression on their faces whenever they looked his way, and that was disgusted. But this man had many emotions.

The first time Boy saw him, Mr. Black had a look of pure anger on his face, and it made Boy fearful of his intentions. But the next time he looked, the man's face appeared to be more worried than angry. So much so, that it almost made Boy feel sorrowful for him. But that was before Boy reminded himself of the fact that Mr. Black had mentioned the name Dumbledore earlier. Then his pity dissolved away like salt in the rain. The last time Boy checked on his annoying shadow, the man's haggard face looked almost hopeful, giving it a kind and gentle expression that reminded him of Miss Tonks. Nevertheless, it only served to make Boy wary.

Could Mr. Black be trying to trick him? It was a likely explanation except that the man had already given himself away. For not only had Boy seen the anger on Mr. Black's face, he had heard it in his voice earlier. And Boy was too experienced with angry people to be tricked so easily. Kindness and gentleness were not to be trusted … unless Miss Tonks was the one offering it.

Only … whenever Mr. Black had gotten close to him, instead of baring his fangs and growling at him as Ripper did, this man would murmur softly to the plants over Boy's head. Boy couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but his voice was low and soothing. If it weren't for the whole knowing Dumbledore thing, Boy would have felt a kinship with him, as he liked to talk to the plants in the garden himself.

It was very tempting to try and edge closer to the man, but his curious actions only served to make Boy distrustful. If Mr. Black really was aware of his presence, then the only purpose Boy could think of that he could possible have would be to catch him for Dumbledore. The thought made Boy shake. Still … the man's voice sounded so kind. If only he knew what it was he was saying, then he might know for sure what his objectives really were …

No! He mustn't! Boy fought against the urge to attempt to get close enough to Mr. Black to hear his words clearer by countering them with words of his own, that he chanted to himself as hard as he could. _'Please don't find me … please don't find me! Please just go away and leave me alone. Please! Please! Please! I don't exist! I don't exist!' _

His little friend Roo had supplied the 'please don't find me' base for the mantra. He had heard her say it while watching Roo and Pooh play hide and seek. Roo would always hide in the same place - snug in Kanga's pocket. And then Pooh would count to ten and look for her everywhere – in Kanga's flower pots, under the rug, behind the door, everywhere but where Roo was. Boy thought it was funny that Pooh never found her, especially as Roo's voice could clearly be heard coming from the cosy pouch wishing not to be found. Nevertheless the silly old Pooh bear never did. But what Pooh would do every time, was to look astonished when Roo would suddenly pop her head out, and then Pooh would exclaim 'Oh my! I didn't see you there!' And then Roo and Pooh would laugh together merrily and then share a smidge of hunny.

The rest of the mantra was of Boy's own making. The 'I don't exist' he had added to appease The Family, as he had been taught that he had to try to please them in everything he did - and that being true would have certainly pleased them. The wish to be left alone was Boy's own heartfelt desire. Boy didn't know why the mantra worked like a charm. All he knew was that it did - every time. Well almost every time that is. It worked on everyone but The Family – he wasn't allowed to hide from them.

While the mantra had kept Mr. Black at a safe distance so that Boy could remain hidden, it hadn't made the man go away entirely. In fact, Mr. Black was becoming annoying in that regard. Watching him pace back and forth in front of the compost pile, which was his final roadblock to freedom, was making Boy apprehensive. If the man wasn't lured away by Cousin's diversion … how would Boy possibly escape? And why hadn't Cousin given the signal yet? Here he had been congratulating himself for making it here before he did, but what if Cousin had changed his mind entirely, and had taken off with his friends in search of something more entertaining to do? It wouldn't have been the first time that Cousin had left Boy in a bad predicament.

Pondering that horrifyingly real possibility caused a large bead of sweat to roll off from Boy's forehead, leaving a streak of mud down his dirty face. Deciding he'd best check, he got down on his stomach and squirmed forward until he could see out beneath the branches of the ilex bush. Through the legs of Mr. Black's tan trousers, he got a clear view of the buffet area. To his immense relief Cousin was still there, but … _what in the world was he doing?_

Boy could hardly believe his eyes as he watched Cousin upend the better part of a delectable pineapple upside down cake over the head of another boy. His heart leapt into his throat at the sight. The only reason Cousin _ever_ threw away a pudding was because he was unhappy with the quality of the dessert! Cousin's first victim started forward only to be held back by a serious looking taller boy who whispered something in the first boy's ear causing him to back down instead.

The taller boy then addressed the shorter rat-faced friend of Cousin. The shorter boy, took offense to whatever the taller boy had said and stomped on his foot in retaliation. When the taller boy bent over in pain, the rat-faced boy socked him in the nose causing two other taller boys to laugh hysterically.

Then Cousin pitched a plate of custard creams at the second boy, who stood there shocked and sputtering while blood and cream dripped onto his starched white shirt. That was when two other boys stopped laughing and joined in by plucking up the bowl of punch and drenching Cousin and his jeering buddies.

Food started to fly fast and furious from the hands of the children on both sides of the table, drawing all the adults in the garden towards the sticky melee. Mesmerized by the sight, Boy finally realized that Cousin was sacrificing the baked goods only to create the diversion as promised. It was almost time!

Boy sprung up and made sure all his belongings were secure in the bundle. Then he looped the shoelaces through the tied ends of the bundle and flung them over his shoulder to offset the weight. That way both his hands could remain free. Poised on his tiptoes in a sprinter's starting stance with tented his fingers on the ground on either side of him, he prepared to take off. Looking first right and then left he verified that all eyes in the garden were on the fighting children, even the persistent Mr. Black had been lured away once the shouting started. Everything started happening at once. Cousin was being true to his word, and as with everything else - when he did something, he did it big!

As the volume and pace of the commotion reached a crescendo, Cousin shouted out the prearranged signal.

"**Smelting rules Hogwarts drool!"**

Shouts of** "No way fat boy!" **and **"Let's get 'im!" **flew as fast as the food.

Boy sprung forward as if launched from a catapult. Cousin, who knew that a prison break was occurring, was the only person in the garden to notice the dark blur scramble up the compost pile to drop down over the crest and disappear.

It wasn't until Dudley saw the top of the loose board in the fence beyond the compost tilt slightly and then dropped back into place, that he plopped down exhausted on the grass and started licking the dripping strawberry jam from his Smelting boater. His plan had worked like a charm! It was only too bad he'd never be able to take proper credit because he thought somebody really ought to give him a reward for it - one of those ones with a lot of cash and a showy ribbon! Next best, was revelling in the commotion he had set off. It didn't matter to him how loud his dad was yelling, or that his mum's screech was breaking his ear drums, or even who won the food fight. Because nothing, not even a bacon bap smacking him in the back of the head could wipe the self-satisfied grin off his face. Finally, the Fete was no longer boring!

On the other side of the fence, Boy leaned back against the warm planks, his chest heaving, and with his pulse racing wildly from the adrenaline rush. He had just done the unthinkable! Not only was he 'outside' in the daytime … he was in the _beyond!_ A short time earlier, he had been mentally preparing himself to become fertilizer and now here he was on the adventure of his lifetime! The realization of what he had accomplished froze him in utter shock until the tightening of his collar reminded he was slacking and hadn't completed his assignments. Forced back to reality he quickly ran though the list of tasks Cousin had given him to do when he said it was time for him to leave.

Wiggle through the coal chute door. Check.

Make it around the yard without being seen. Check, check.

Wait for Cousin's signal. Check again.

Squish through the broken board in the fence before anyone caught him. Check and double check.

Then what was it Cousin had ordered him to do?

Oh yeah …

_**RUN!**_


	45. Far to go

**The Hundred Acre Wood**

Disclaimer: See chapter 1, still the same, I still own nothing.

Author: written by DracaDelirus, typed and posted by Arwen of Evenstar

Warnings: Language and mention of extreme child abuse, refers to rape. Please don't read this fanfic if this will distress you. I don't want to offend. My apologies in advance to anyone I might upset.

Timeline: Late Saturday afternoon August 3rd, 1991 then past midnight.

**Chapter 45 – Far to go**

"My beautiful buffet! NO! NO! NO! STOP! STOP! STOP!" Petunia Dursley cried in alarm when the mêlée broke out. In answer to her plea, a barrage of sugared plums sailed past her head. One of them neatly knocking the flowery hat right off the head of the unfortunate Garden Club member standing beside her with a resounding 'SPAT!'

"Sweetums! STOP! You'll ruin your beautiful suit!"

The commotion drew the attention of everyone in the Garden with food and feathers flying fast and furious. If they were not participating, they were trying to stop it - the Order of the Phoenix doing their best to extricate the Weasley children and Luna Lovegood without resorting to magic. Minerva McGonagall, who regrettably had been closing in on Dudley Dursley at the onset of the fight, was hit with more than her fair share of the gloppy missiles. The result was not pretty.

After being nailed in the back of the head with a pepper stuffed with tuna salad, Remus Lupin abandoned his half-hearted search of the flowerbeds in favour of helping to squelch the uprising, because it was at least something proactive to do, and all this inactivity was killing him. His attempts to gain entrance to the house to look for Harry had been futile, and he'd found no trace of Tonk's missing bag in the Garden despite sending out several whispered_ 'Accio' _spells. Although each time he did so, he got the curious feeling that there was something more than plants in the beds. Perhaps Xenophilius Lovegood was right and the garden _was_ infested with a pernicious variety of Umgubular Slashkilters.

In the midst of the commotion a short skinny dark haired boy of eleven, dressed in all black, was spotted breaking away from the group of children and fleeing at full speed through the crowd towards the rose arbour. At a signal from Mad-Eye Moody, Bill and Charlie Weasley took off after the child. However, they lost him when he disappeared inside a long silver car parked at the curb. The car speeded off before they could reach it and their spells to jinx the motor fell short. At that point, Rubeus Hagrid, who had been standing guard at the perimeter of Number Six, took up the chase. His long legs enabling him, despite his size, to outpace the Weasley brothers as if they were only out for a leisurely jog.

The few reporters still milling about snapping photos of the incongruous flowers to illustrate their news articles, were treated to an unexpected photo op featuring the prim and proper members of the Elite Garden Club of Little Whinging caught in the middle of a food fight of monumental proportions. The most notable snap was that of the chairwoman of the club, one Petunia Dursley, flinging herself through mid-air into the path of a toppling tower of sticky buns in order to protect a chubby cheeked blond boy from what the reporters could only guess was even further pudding pudgery. Lamentably, in the process she took out several other club members who were trying to drag their sons away from the plentiful ammo.

Most of the reporters were already re-penning their articles from headlines of 'Glorious Garden Gala Gobsmacks Guests' to ones of "Deranged Dursley Dangerously Downs Dozens" and then hurrying off to make the late edition. Xenophilius Lovegood editor of the Quibbler, having gathered more than enough material for several articles, took his happy pudding-spattered daughter and left the property heading north until they came to a secluded spot in a park several blocks away. The Lovegood's then used a discarded cola can to portkey home.

Nevertheless, it wasn't until an authoritative voice reverberated throughout garden calling for an immediate cease fire did the turmoil finally start to die down. After the Weasley parents rounded up their rowdy brood they ordered them to return to the Burrow forthwith, the two oldest Weasley offspring shepherding the five youngest away from the fete and towards Mrs Figg's floo. Petunia Dursley's high pitched orders for 'the horrible horrible children' to 'never come play with her impressionable baby angel again' followed them down the pavement.

Dudley Dursley watched them all leave his garden with smug delight knowing he had orchestrated the entire exodus (plus one), and as of yet remained blameless. As long as his gang kept their mouths shut, and Boy did what he told him to do, this might work out for him after all!

Blocks away Boy was doing his best to follow Cousin's not-so-clear-cut orders to the best of his ability.

_**Pound! Pound! Pound! Pound! Pound!**_

The pounding of his heart was drowning out the sound of his bare feet rhythmically slapping on the hot pavement.

_**Pound! Pound! Pound! Pound! Pound!**_

Over the roar in his ears, he could hear the sounds of shouting coming from behind him. However the pounding was so loud that he couldn't hear what words the sounds were forming. Normally Boy would assume any shouting was being directed at him, immediately stop what he was doing, and prepare for punishment. However this time Cousin had outdid his self. The last words Boy had heard clearly was Ma'am screaming _'Stop! You'll ruin your beautiful suit!'_ This time he knew without a doubt that she wasn't shouting at him. He didn't have a suit. Let alone a beautiful one. He followed his last set of instructions which Cousin said overrode all the others - he didn't stop for anyone or anything.

_**Pound! Pound! Pound! Pound! Pound!**_

Up down Up down Up down… it was all he was concentrating on - keeping his feet running. And run he must. It was an order.

_**Pound! Pound! Pound! Pound! Pound!**_

He was past being winded, past being conscious of how very much every part of him still hurt pushing himself like this, but not past being terrified by what he was attempting to do.

_**Pound! Pound! Pound! Pound! Pound!**_

He ran as if Misses' dog Ripper was biting at his heels.

_**Pound! Pound! Pound! Pound! Pound!**_

He pumped his arms and tried to ignore his bundle thumping into his tender back, and his dangling shoes tap dancing on his sore chest with every step.

_**Pound! Pound! Pound! Pound! Pound!**_

Even with all the adrenalin flowing through his veins he was oddly calmed by the fact that he was running so fast that everything beyond the end of his nose was a blur. Nothing within his line of sight was clear. He was sure that if any neighbour were to by chance look out their window that they couldn't possibly see him either. Luckily it didn't dawn on him that this new super power was really caused by the lack of wearing his father's glasses – lucky because since it didn't dawn on him, it didn't dawn on the corrective collar he wore either. In this case ignorance was indeed bliss.

_**Pound! Pound! Pound! Pound! Pound!**_

Boy had no real plan other than to follow the flash of orange and black stripes that he kept glimpsing in front of him. The only person Boy knew who had fur those colours was his friend Tigger. That could only mean that the feeling he had had back in his cupboard, that his friends were near, was real! And if his friends were near than so was the Wood!

_**Pound! Pound! Pound! Pound! Pound!**_

That must be where Tigger was heading. If only he could reach the Wood too, he would be safe. However, never having had the opportunity to run flat out before, Boy hadn't realized how much energy it would take. He tried desperately to catch up with Tigger, but years of malnutrition were taking their toll and the effects of Miss Tonk's wondrous potions were starting to wear thin.

_**Pound! Pound! Pound! Pound! Pound!**_

Then right before his eyes the faraway splash of orange colour separated into two Tiggers and bobbing in between was a small spot of pink and a medium sized blob of mustard yellow. The double Tiggers was confusing but the others two could only be Piglet and Pooh! No other bear could possibly have fur that colour, and who but Piglet would be that bright of a pink? And there – just ahead of them three larger brown blobs too! Could one of them be Kanga? But who were the others? He wished he could stop long enough to put the glasses on. Then he would know for sure. But he couldn't stop. He had to run! He had to keep going!

_**Pound! Pound! Pound! …Pound! Pound! …Pound!**_

'_No… something isn't right about that…' _Boy thought to himself and his feet started to slow.

**_Pound! Pound! … Pound! … _**

'…_I'm just supposed to run as fast as I can, for as long as I can.' _

**_Pound! … Pound! …_**

'_Then I'm supposed to take the bus to London…'_

**_Pound…_**

'…_what… what's a bus?' _

Confusion and exhaustion overtook Boy slowing his feet to a complete stop. Not able to take even one more step he put his head down, hands on his knees, while the sweat dripped off his dirty nose sizzling when it hit the sun baked pavement. By the time he quit panting enough to look up again, he could no longer see any of his friends from the Woods ahead of him. He also had no idea where he was, other than he was standing in the middle of a flat black dry river bed.

He swallowed hard with disappointment. He had run so far yet he sincerely doubted that he was in London already. The Family was always gone much longer than this when they travelled there in Master's car, and Master's car was sure to go faster than Boy's feet. Also, Cousin's instructions were to take a bus to get there, that clearly meant Cousin didn't think he couldn't get there on foot alone.

Squinting to either side in the bright hot light of the sun he saw that this river's banks was lined with house after house which all looked identical to The Family's, rather than the cattails that he and his friends liked to use to make poohsticks. Besides, there weren't nearly enough trees! In the middle of The Hundred Acre Wood was a stand of six tall pines where the Heffalump trap was, and through the middle ran a river filled with clear clean water and its bed was soft with sparkling silt.

He was not in the Woods, and since in Boy's mind London and Hogwarts were one and the same place, and clearly he wasn't there either, that only left 'The Neighbourhood' for where he might possibly be.

Boy started to panic and the bile rose in his throat turning into dry heaves. Had he been running in a big circle? Cousin had ordered him to run '_away'_ not _'back'!_ When the collar didn't tighten to signify he had disobeyed the order, his panic subsided slightly. However, now that his head was clearing, he felt very exposed and he knew he couldn't stay where he was. Stopped still like he was, someone was very likely to see him even if he was blurry!

_**BEEEEEEEPPPP! BEEEEEEEPPPP!**_

He looked behind him to where the noise was coming from and saw a huge metal machine bearing down on him.

'_OH NO SOMETHING'S COMING! Where can I hide? Where? THERE!' _

Boy leapt into a small tributary running between two of the houses lining the wide black river. He hid just seconds before a long silver car with black tinted windows rolled up tight, zoomed past his hiding place. The close call made him nervous enough, but it was the gigantic bearded man clutching a pink parasol chugging after the car, shouting for it to _"'old up there!" _which had Boy shaking with terror.

This world beyond the garden fence had far too much shouting in it!

Boy hunkered down in the shelter of the narrow shadowy corridor. It was the first time he felt safe enough since leaving his cupboard that he could take stock of his predicament. This was his second brush with that same man almost seeing him. A third time he might not be so lucky so he decided to wait it out and make sure the man wasn't coming back before he set out again. As he had no clear next objective to fulfil at the moment the collar didn't object.

When he had first escaped he had looked back over his shoulder as he rounded the corner of the deserted house, to make sure that Master wasn't following him through the broken fence board, and had almost run smack into the back of that same tree-tall man. The man had been watching the fight unfold in the garden next door with a great deal of interest. There was only one man in the entire world that Boy could think of who could possibly be that huge and scary who would take that amount of notice in the goings on of The Family - Mr Dumbledore White!

Thankfully, Boy's lightning fast reflexes made it possible for him to turn in mid-zig and zag back behind the house again to re-emerge unseen on the far side. However, all the fancy manoeuvring boy had to do around, over, under, and through several other gardens and obstacles, to put a safe distance between himself and Mr White before he could start running in earnest, was what ultimately put him too far behind to ever catch up with Tigger.

Now that he had lost track of where his friends from the Wood were, Boy had no idea what direction to go next. On one hand it seemed unwise to go back the way he came. If he did, he was sure to run into the terrifying Mr White. And Mr White would return him promptly to Master. Master in turn would undoubtedly blame him for what Cousin did to Ma'am's Fete. Boy shuddered at what that would mean. He did have to agree that it would be rightfully just for Master to punish him this time, for Cousin only destroyed the buffet to help him out, only... Boy wasn't quite ready to be fertilizer - not after coming this far. On the other hand, ahead lay the frightening unknown and perhaps an even more grisly death, or worse – prison!

One was a certainty, the other only a possibility. Given those options, there really was only one thing he could do. Besides, he sighed resignedly, it really wasn't his choice to make - he had to do what Cousin told him to do – go to London. Since he hadn't found London yet, or even a bus (whatever that was), he had to keep going forward.

Boy gathered his courage, stood up, took a deep breath, and squared his shoulders. As he plunged deeper into the shaded tunnel headed for the bright spot at the other end, he mentally warned anything that may be lurking there with an _'Okay...'_

"...here I come! OW! Get your feet out of the way Fred!" Ron yelled as he tripped over his brother as he came out of the Burrow's floo into the cosy kitchen bathed in the late afternoon sunlight.

"Watch your own feet, and I'm not Fred you twit." George snorted pushing him off his foot.

"Take that back! I'm not a twit!" As Ron lunged to tackle George, Bill intercepted him.

"Ronny, Ronny, Ronny, when will you ever learn?" Bill asked shaking his head at his youngest brother. "You're our baby brother. To us you'll always be the twit, just like Percy here is the prat. You might as well learn to live with it. These little pet nicknames are just our way of showing we care."

"Hey!" Percy, who had previously been ignoring his brothers, all of a sudden started paying attention to the conversation when he heard his name mentioned.

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean I have to like it! So what does that make you – the mighty Mugwump?" Ron asked grumpily, flopping down in a chair and putting his chin on the table in front of him.

"The oldest," Bill teased with a slight smile. When Ron didn't respond in kind he raised an eyebrow at his sulky brother and then nodded at his other siblings indicating they should sit down at the table too. He and Charlie had a little surrogate parenting to do.

When they were all gathered and quieted down Bill started out seriously, "You all really disappointed Dad and Mum today at the Fete."

The kids hung their heads in shame. Bill and Charlie were NEVER this serious with them. They really were in BIG trouble this time. And that could only mean one thing – nothing but longs hours, degnoming the garden ahead to fill up the rest of their summer. No more pick-up Quidditch matches in the orchard for them!

"None of it was my fault! It was entirely those two! They caused the trouble!" Percy burst out, unwilling to give up even a minute of study time to atone for what he considered to be his brother's sins. He pointed an accusatory finger at the twins who just made identical innocent shrugs in response as if they had no idea about what he was talking.

"We didn't cause any trouble," they chorused.

"Dad _asked_ us to help create diversions," George reminded him with a superior tone.

"Not that kind and you know it!"

"The kind wasn't specified. Besides we asked Professor Snape for permission," Fred smirked.

"But he didn't know what he was agreeing too!"

"Says who?"

"Says him! I heard him deny it myself!"

"Shuddit Percy! You were the worst one of all!" Charlie chastised him. "You were in charge and not only did you _not_ let us know when the two boys we were there to rescue first showed up, you physically attacked one of them. Then all of you ganging up on him, terrified him to the point he ran away from us. Hagrid is still out looking and who knows how long it will take to find him. I hear he is very good at hiding."

"But he hit me first! All I did was to call him 'little one' just as Mum asked, and he fair to broke my nose when I did!" Percy howled at the injustice of the allegation.

"Doesn't matter," Bill said firmly with Charlie nodding in agreement. "You're the older one, we trusted you to help."

"That's right Percy," Fred said knowingly. "Mum said you were supposed to be kind…"

"…and compassionate," George finished up with smirk.

As Percy pouted at being called to task by his brothers, Ginny picked up on the one fact about the mission they hadn't been told about and which Charlie had inadvertently let slip. It interested her very much because the only one she knew of whom needed rescuing from that house was her friend Christopher Robin.

"Charlie… what did you mean when you said we were there to 'rescue' them? I thought Daddy and Mummy just said they wanted to meet those two boys. Was there a third one in that house who needed rescuing? Maybe locked behind the green door in the hall? A little boy with light brown hair and wearing blue shorts?"

The twins and Ron rolled their eyes at the question, making Ginny flush with anger. She thought they understood!

"No Ginny, just the two boys you saw. Dudley was the blond boy in that god awful maroon suit, and little one wore black jeans and t-shirt and had dark hair," Charlie answered her, completely missing the admission that she knew what the inside of the house looked like.

"He makes up for being little with his big fat fists!" Percy muttered under his breath as his nose started to bleed again. Bill popped his nose back into joint and cleaned him up with a '_Tergeo'_ spell, and only wished he could pop his personality back into place so easily.

"None others? Might you have overlooked one if he was about my size?" she asked in a small disappointed voice. She was so sure!

"Sorry Sis, it's just the two of them. And considering everything, that is two boys too many in that house in my book," Charlie said cryptically.

"You got that right! If I ever see them again it will be way too soon. Percy spoke up, still indignant.

"Did you forget? They're wizards too. Since Professor McGonagall was there, they are sure to be at Hogwarts come September as first years," Fred pointed out to irritate his brother further.

"Then I hope they're sorted to Gryffindor."

"Gryffindor?" George hooted. "If you don't like them so much why not wish them on Slytherin?"

"Because if they are in Gryffindor I can make them shape up!" Percy said haughtily polishing his Prefect badge on his sleeve.

Ron snorted with laughter that anyone, first year or not, would take his up-tight brother Percy seriously. He certainly didn't intend too.

Bill and Charlie exchanges looks. If this is how their siblings were feeling about it, they wouldn't like the news they were about to break to them at all.

"You may be seeing them a bit sooner than September…" Bill started.

"NO! I won't go to anymore Fetes if I have to dress in this suit again!" Ron quit laughing as he tried to shrug off the tight jacket and only succeeded in tearing a seam doing so and tangling up his arms until it acted like a straitjacket. "ARRRGH! I CAN'T GET IT OFF! HELP!"

The twins helped him out by flipping him upside down and bouncing him up and down by the ankles until the clothing fell off. Job done they dropped him on his head.

_**Thunk!**_

"Thanks," Ron growled at the pair grinning down on him.

"Anytime!" they chorused.

"C'mon guys! We're trying to discuss something serious here, and you aren't making it any easier!" Charlie resorted to pleading as he pulled Ron to his feet. But it was Bill's look of disappointment that made them finally quit clowning around.

"Sorry Bill, Sorry Charlie, but Ronnikins did ask for help," they shrugged.

"That's okay, we understand – you are just normally helpful guys. So now we're asking for your help, and from all of rest of you too, or rather Dad and Mum are asking."

"It's not another Fete is it?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"No Ron, it's not another Fete. I would say we've worn out our welcome for those. What we are trying to tell you is the Dad and Mum are going to try and bring those boys home with them tonight."

"Home? Tonight? You mean… here? To the Burrow?" Percy squealed like a stuck pig, his voice getting high and squeaky, setting off the twin's laughter again.

"Yes here," Bill confirmed, making the twins quit just as quickly as they started.

"Don't they have enough kids already?" they asked curious as to what would possibly motivate their parents to commit such an impulsive act.

"A better question is – where are they going to put them?" Percy added.

"Ah, good of you to ask," Bill grinned while tugging on his earring, a nervous habit that made Percy wish he had not asked the question. "Mum was thinking that temporarily they could share your room."

"My room?" Percy looked shocked. "Why not put them in Ron's? He's their age!"

"Er… right you are, and while we could stash a camp bed in Ron's for one, there isn't room for two. So Dad was thinking you could two could switch since yours is large enough for three. Just er… temporarily of course, until they can come up with the funds to enlarge the house again."

"I don't want Ron's room! He's a slob and his room stinks! Why not have him switch with the twins? Their room is even larger than mine!"

"They considered that, but Dad thought it best not to in case they forgot to deactivate any of their booby-traps," Charlie admitted.

The twins grinned and nodded approvingly at each other. Ha! They knew it had been a good idea to set those up when they first did it!

"Why not Bill's room then? You and him are hardly ever home! It's big enough for the two of you, so it should be big enough for the two of them."

"They thought of that, but Great Auntie Muriel has been threatening to visit again and Mum wants to keep it ready in case she does. She can't walk up all the flights it would take to get to any of the others."

"Why not the attic above Ron's room then? Why can't one of those boys sleep in Ron's and the other sleep up there? Maybe that _'little one' _– he's small, he'd fit," Percy persisted, not wanting to be accommodating if he didn't absolutely have to, while at the same time finding a way to keep as much distance between him and the elven-year-olds as he could.

"The ghoul is up there, besides – Mum wouldn't think of putting little one in the attic considering everything that…" Bill stopping short of explaining wasn't lost on his very observant siblings.

"Considering everything that what?" Ron asked for all of them.

"Remember when Mum told you that the Dursleys weren't very comfortable around magic, and that they suspected the boys living with them might have been mistreated because of it? Do you know what that means?"

"Kind of…" Ron admitted soberly. His older brothers nodded that they did too, thinking of a friend of theirs from the village that used to get knocked about until their own dad paid the boy's father a visit late one night along with his friend from the Ministry - Kingsley Shacklebolt. Their friend was a lot happier after that. Ginny was the only one who didn't nod.

"What are you thinking about Ginny-girl?" Charlie asked gently noticing the puzzled look on her face. He sat down beside his little sister and put his arm around her comfortingly. The conversation must be upsetting her, he thought.

"Why would anyone not like magic Charlie? It's so wonderful!"

"Yes it is Ginny, but there are a few muggles who are afraid of it, so much so that their fear overtakes their reason and it makes them do violent things to try and get rid of it. That is one reason our two worlds separated."

"But could they ever? I mean... magic is in nature, and nature is everywhere around us. How could they ever get rid of it all? Could it even be done?" Ginny shuddered at the thought of a world devoid of magic. It would be like snuffing out the sun and stuffing all the stars in the heaven into a big box and shutting the lid – nothing would be left but darkness.

"I honestly don't think it could Ginny, so you have nothing to worry about. But it doesn't mean that someone still wouldn't try if they were very afraid of it. And when some people try to do things and fail, they get angry. And when people get angry then tend to hurt things or people they shouldn't – even ones they love. That's why Dad and Mum want to bring those boys here - to protect them. Because it's beginning to look more and more as if there is a lot of anger in that house, and that little one took the brunt of the ill treatment," Charlie explained.

"Which might be why little one reacted the way he did when you approached him Percy. We heard he is rather shy," Bill pointed out, and tugged on his earring in frustration when Percy still didn't seem won over. "Look - Dad and Mum are afraid that the situation is going from bad to worse for both of the boys. So let's just all give Dudley and little one the benefit of the doubt – and do what we can to make them feel welcome and safe. Okay everyone? Can you do that for Dad and Mum?"

The twins, Ginny, and Ron exchanged looks and nodded their agreement. Percy stayed quiet on the subject until Ron elbowed him then he jumped up in protest.

"Okay, okay, I'll move. _But only temporarily!"_

"Duly noted," Bill replied dryly, staring his brother down until he was sure Percy was feeling more ashamed at being uncooperative and unwelcoming now, than he was feeling wronged from being attacked earlier.

"Can we at least call him something besides 'little one'? That didn't work out so well for me," Percy whinged rubbing his nose.

"NO!" Bill and Charlie both answered in unison, making all but Percy break out in gales of laughter.

"C'mon Ron and Perce! We'll help you pack!" Fred offered racing his brother George for the stairs.

"_STAY OUT OF MY ROOM! I'LL DO IT MYSELF!"_ Percy squealed and ran after them.

"What about you Ron? Don't you want to protect your things too? You never know how long it might take to find everything again if you leave the packing to the twins," Charlie teased. Ron just continued to sit with his chin on the table looking depressed, just as he'd been doing most of the time since they came home. The threat of the twin's onslaught didn't budge him at all.

"What's got you all gloom and doom?" Bill asked scooting his chair around the edge of the table. "Here you're getting the opportunity to make a couple of new friends, and you're looking like you did the time Fred and George buried your teddy bear in the garden and told you he died."

"Might as well take me out and bury me with my teddy, because when Dad finds out I lost it he will anyway..." Ron mumbled morosely, making Ginny burst out in sobs when she heard the dire prediction.

"I'm sorry Ron! It's my fault! Daddy can bury me!"

"Dad's not going to bury either one of you. Now what are you talking about Ginny? What's your fault?" Charlie asked squeezing in a one armed hug until her sobs quieted to hiccups.

"I-I… I lost it at the Fete!"

"What did you lose?"

"Ron's pin!"

"Ronald Bilius Weasley! You lost the pin? Is it true?" Bill and Charlie chorused in disbelief. When Ron nodded miserably, they added "We told you to be careful with it!"

"What? Her, you hug – me, you point fingers at? You heard her – she's the one who lost it!" Ron wasn't sure why Ginny wanted to take the rap for it, but who was he to stop her? For a girl, she could be more stubborn than the rest of them put together.

"Ron!" Charlie chastised him after Ginny's sobs picked up again and he pulled her onto his lap. "There, there - Ron wasn't supposed to have worn it to the muggles' garden to begin with. So why do you think it was your fault?"

"I-I found it in the pudding, so I put it in my pocket. I was going to give it back, but when he wouldn't help me get into the house to look for the door - I got mad so I didn't. The next time I thought about it, it wasn't there anymore. I had a hole in the corner… see?" she paused to demonstrate with wiggly fingers through the cloth. "Anyway it fell out! And now its losted forever at that horrible angry house and it's my fault!" she wailed bursting into tears.

"It's okay Gin, Bill and I are going back to Little Whinging as soon as everything is settled here. We'll see if we can find it," Charlie assured her.

"Thanks Charlie! That's ruddy decent of you!" Ron said perking up immediately.

"No promises Ron, but we'll do what we can," Bill agreed. "However, if we find it, and you better hope we do, you best not lose it again. It is a _very _special pin."

"That's what Dad said too – because it belonged to him and before that to his dad, and before that to his dad's dad, and before that…"

"No Ron it's more than that. It's also an unregistered portkey."

Ron paled at that announcement, "It's-it's a _what?"_

"It's a portkey. When Great-great-great Granddad left for Hogwarts the first time… Charlie was it three greats or two?"

Charlie shrugged, "Does it matter?"

"Guess not, anyway a few greats back in time, during one of the Goblin rebellions, our great-whatever-plus one Grandfather, made the pin into a portkey and gave it to his son so he would always have a way to escape to somewhere safe if caught in a dangerous situation."

"Where would it take him? Here to the Burrow?"

Bill laughed. "No Ron, the Burrow didn't even exist back then, and during the Goblin rebellions our ancestors had no way of knowing where a safe place would be at any given moment. Unlike normal portkeys which take you to a place, our Gramps got very clever and wove a 'love locator' spell into it to take his son to a person."

"I don't think I've ever heard of one of those." Ginny was enraptured. She loved romantic tales.

"How the portkey works is that if his son was ever in mortal danger all he had to do was hold the pin tight in his hand over his heart, and ask it for love's safekeeping. The portkey would then take him to someone who loved him whoever and wherever that person might be, so they could protect him. That long ago portkeys didn't have to be registered with the Ministry so this one is 'off the radar' to quote the muggles. I heard tale from Grandfather Septimus that the spell on it is even strong enough to break through the protections around Hogwarts. Although I doubt he was ever in mortal danger while he went to school there to try it."

"Wow…" Ron gasped, his eyes growing round with wonder. "And… and Dad trusted me with something like that?"

"Yeah he did, little Bro. When I was a first year I thought he was going to give it to me. When he didn't, I asked about it and he said he'd had a very strong premonition that he needed to save it for you, and asked if I didn't mind. You were only two at the time, but even I could see you were going to end up in more trouble than I ever would, so I agreed."

"And I only had it for two days and I lost it already. I'm no better than a muggle-born," Ron wailed miserably covering his eyes with his hands so he didn't have to see the pity on his older brother's faces.

George and Fred, on their way back downstairs to see what was keeping their little brother, had stopped on the landing at hearing voices. They had been eavesdropping ever since, and now looked at each other and silently agreed with Ron's self-assessment. But they also empathized with him. It was hard being one of the youngest in the family but at least they had each other. Ron didn't have anyone, he was a poor little singly.

"We tell you what Ronnikins– before we leave for Hogwarts, we'll teach you a few spells so your classmates won't leave you in the dust," they burst into the group offering.

Ron spread the fingers of one hand wide and peered out at them. As if _anything_ could replace the pin… but…

"Like what?"

"Like… I dunno…" Fred searched his brain for something he thought would be easy-peasy "…like how to turn Scabbers the rat yellow?"

"Really? That would be ruddy brilliant!" Ron grinned from ear-to-ear, the pin forgotten he thought about how he could impress his future classmates on the train with that trick.

"Really! It's the least we can do… to make up for the rest," George said with a mock bow in his direction.

"What do you mean 'to make up for the rest'? The rest of what?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"Er… nothing. Hey… you weren't too attached to those Quidditch posters were you?"

"MY POSTERS! NOOOOOOOOooooooooo…" Ron yelled as pushed his brothers out of the way and took the stairs two at a time.

"You didn't!" Bill shook his head at the twins, as Ron's feet could be heard pounding their way up several flights of stairs to the top floor.

"No. But it did get him to…" George started.

"… take an interest in the packing," Fred finished.

"Didn't it?" they both grinned evilly before following Ron to 'help' some more.

"Boys, boys, boys," Charlie laughed. "Speaking of which… you just got rid of Charlie and me, are you going to be alright with the house filling up with two more boys again?" he asked Ginny, who was still snuggled on his lap.

"I suppose… I just wish…"

"What do you wish?" he asked when she didn't continue.

"I just wish there could be three coming… one more for me to play with too. Only one with brown hair, wearing blue shorts. I'd even share my room with him."

"Oh Ginny," Charlie laughed lightly while at the same time trying not to be dismissive of her feelings, "don't you think two more is quite enough for now? I'm sure they will play with you as well as Ron. Besides, where would we find another boy to borrow on such short notice?"

"I don't know Charlie… if he wasn't in the house, then maybe he's in the Woods?" she guessed making Charlie laugh again at her wild imagination and give her another hug. He was glad she'd found a new friend at the Fete in Luna Lovegood. Maybe with someone real to play with she would stop making up imaginary friends.

However Charlie shouldn't have laughed so hard as Ginny wasn't that far off – maybe just a block or two at most.

Boy lay flat on the ground under one of the big metal cars that dotted the landscape in front of the random house that lined the black river of tar. He ran his tongue along his teeth to unstick them from his lips. He was thirsty from all the running and hiding he had been doing for the past few hours. However Ma'am had forbidden him from drinking any water today. He just needed to make it a few more hours.

Inching out enough to squint up into the sky he estimated that it wouldn't be long before the sun started to set. Boy knew he couldn't stay where he was, because cars such as the one he was currently hiding under tended to move frequently, as proven by the last one he took refuge under which suddenly roared to life and began backing out of the drive. He managed to roll out of the way in time but he needed to find a safe place to hole up before that happened again.

He had long since given up trying to find Tigger and the rest of his woodland friends, and instead had been following an aerial path marked by Hedwig and Mercury. Each time he had to hide, he had stayed hidden where he was until he spotted one of them circling high in the air above him, then he would try to head in whichever direction he thought they were flying. Sometimes it took him right, sometimes left, sometimes back the way he came. He was so lost that even if he tried to return to The Family's house now to throw himself on Master's mercy, he wouldn't be able too.

Just then he saw a winged shadow racing across the ground in front of him. He carefully inched out again. Good, no one was around. High above, two shadows passed in front of the sun. They were both there that time, flying in unison. He watched until they became mere dots in the sky, admiring their grace. Wishing he could fly, he headed out again, following on foot.

There were several more close calls with cars, and a few times when two 'neighbours' (people whom he feared almost as much as he did 'the police') who were out for a walk almost saw him, before he spotted the tip of a tall pine tree in the distance. Other than when Master would bring one home at Christmas for Ma'am and Cousin to decorate, the only place that Boy knew of where pines grew were in the Wood.

'_I have to be getting close!' _he breathed excitedly. His heartbeat quicken with his pace as the sun sank even lower in the sky.

As he moved closer and closer, darting from bush to fence, fence to car, car to bush, the tip of the tree slowly grew into an entire limb, the limb into a miniature tree above the rooftops. The miniature tree blossomed into a full size tree when he rounded the last curve of the black river. The pine stood in the middle of a flat green space dotted with other trees and surrounded by a low ornate iron fence. What looked to be a small stream ran along one edge.

'_The Woods! I made it!'_

_**BEEEEEEEPPPP!**_

The blast of a horn from a car coming up hurriedly from behind got Boy's sore feet to scrambling over the fence and out of the way. Dropping down to the ground he lay still and close to the fence to make as little of a silhouette as possible. When he felt the danger was passed he sat up and looked around.

The Woods were vast indeed, MUCH larger than Ma'am garden. But all in all he thought them rather disappointing especially after all he had done to get here. In his dreams the trees of the Woods were tall and thick, good for climbing and finding hunny. Other than the one lone pine, the trees here were rather short and sparse. He didn't think any of them would give him much protection. The river through the Woods had always been clear and swift, the silt in the bottom soft between his toes, with banks that overflowed with sweet water. This river was a shallow, and filled with stagnant water tinged green with algae. In its murky depths he could see bits of litter poking up from it bed. He didn't relish the thought of drinking the water from it, but if that was all he could come up with it - it was better than dying of thirst. His stomach roiled in protest at even the suggestion he would consider it.

Boy wandered around the perimeter first keeping hidden as much as he could by the bushes and benches as he went. None of the trees looked like the ones where Owl and Piglet made their home, and he saw no sign of Pooh's house either. Eeyore's boggy place had been reduced to a low space where a thistle patch grew. And most dismal sight of all was that Roo's large sandy pit where they would play for hours was now confined to a small square patch with the sand held in place by wooden sides painted yellow.

The only thing left to investigate was the tall structure in the centre which lay past the enormous pie plate with handles, that spun around and around, and beyond the triangle structures with the ropes of chain that someone had hung from the top bar so that they dangled down in pairs to be joined at the bottom by rubber slings. Passing by them now, Boy shook his head in wonderment - it still wasn't a very efficient way to hang clothesline. There used to be one of those contraptions in Ma'am's back garden. As Ma'am never did the laundry, and Boy wasn't allowed out during the day to hang the wash so he did it in the basement, Boy didn't see the point in it being there. Apparently neither had Master, because after Cousin broke the rubber sling by trying to sit on it, the triangle contraption disappeared to be replaced by a bird bath.

When Boy reached the tall structure he could see it was a series of ladders and ropes jumbled up together in a climbing pile with a long tunnel running underneath it all. Peering in one end of the tunnel and then other, Boy's hope crumpled. It wasn't the entrance to Rabbit's home. None of his friends were here. Now it was official. He was so lost no one knew where he was. Not even him. However, to be absolutely honest when he calmed down enough to think about that fact - it was rather thrilling!

Being 'thrilled' was a hitherto unknown feeling for Boy, and one for which the collar had received no previous input from the slave's master on the appropriate level of punishment to administer when it was experienced. It waited, and when no correction was forthcoming for it to learn, it allowed the situation to continue.

There had never been a time that Boy could think about, except that one episode when he almost made it up the chimney undetected, that someone in The Family didn't know exactly where he was. Now, he wasn't sure himself! But he was fairly sure he wasn't where he thought, or where Master had wanted him to stay, and especially not where Cousin told him to be. To get anywhere other than here, it was obvious that he still had far, far to go.

But he just couldn't go another step until he rested.

Boy took another appraising glance at the entrance to the dark tunnel. From what he could see – the tunnel wasn't that big inside, but then neither was his little cupboard under the stairs. It wasn't very inviting either. With the hard rounded plastic sides of the pipe forming the tunnel there would be no place to lie down flat. However, with it being so uncomfortable, Master would probably approve of the choice despite it having a second exit which normally wouldn't have been allowed. As night was falling fast Boy knew he didn't have time to look for anything smaller, tighter, rougher, danker, and more closed in. He sighed, this would have to do for now.

Too tired, hungry, and thirsty to do any more, Boy crawled in to the tunnel head first until he reached the centre where he curled up in a ball without even bothering to spread out his blanket. Clutching his bundle to his chest he squeezed his arms around it. His precious items were all that stood between him and the unknown dangers that lay ahead. But tired as he was, his eyes remained alert and wide open.

If he fell asleep, would he wake up in the middle of a nightmare of this not being true? Even though he had been following Cousin's direct orders when he escaped, the only danger he was really worried about at that moment was it still being some sort of cruel trick. If so, that would mean his VERY angry master would be out there somewhere tracking him down, and when he did – it would NOT be good to be him. Spasms of pain shot through him at the memory. Boy closed his eyes and fervently launched into his protective mantra.

'_Please don't find me, please don't find me, please don't find me. I don't exist, I don't exist, I don't exist...'_

Sometime later a small noise roused him from his uneasy slumber. At first he startled awake and then froze. Was someone out there? After a considerable wait to make sure it was safe he crept slowly to the end and peered out. A soft rain was pelting the earth. The clouds obscured the moon and stars so it was impossible to tell what time it was but Boy felt as if he had been in the pipe for hours. Surely, it must be past midnight by now!

Tentatively sticking out his tongue a drop of water hit the parched surface. Sweet! When the collar didn't contradict his time estimate Boy greedily held up his hands to catch as much as possible, drinking with delight. Scrambling back inside he tore open the bundle and dumped everything onto the blanket, retrieving the chipped pitcher and the plastic bucket from the heap which he place just outside the second tunnel entrance, on the far side away from the fence where no one would easily spot them.

Boy grinned to himself. First water to drink, and if the rain kept up, by morning he would have enough clean water to wash off some of the accumulated dirt. Things were finally starting to go his way! He was just turning to go back inside when he heard another sound. This time it was not the rain. It sounded more like footsteps. Boy went into his statue imitation. After holding his breath for what seemed like forever, Boy finally whispered into the deepening night.

"Rabbit? Tigger? Pooh? Is that you? Is anyone out there?"

The only response was the howling of a Jagular from somewhere nearby. Boy empathized with the lonely sound and had to resist the sudden temptation to howl back. But making noise was still forbidden so instead he ducked silently back into the tunnel.

Crawling to the centre he wrapped the blanket around his shoulders against the damp air, and gathered the rest of his possessions into a neat pile so he wouldn't lose any of them. His stomach growled when he came to the apples. The whole one was okay for a while yet. It was just a little bruised so he sat it aside, but the half-eaten one had turned brown and dry from being carried in the pack on his back in the heat of the day. Curling up into ball, with the book under his head for a pillow, he held the dried fruit in his hand and contemplated whether or not his master would think he had earned the right to eat it. He was so hungry he hoped so, but truthfully it was a tossup.

Boy had done everything that he had been ordered too, however the results were dubious. Why he had almost been spotted more times during the few hours since his escape than during the rest of his life put together! There were four people in particular he had to keep hiding from, the unimaginably tall and scary Mr Dumbledore White, the persistent Mr Black who was still dogging his every move, and a man and woman with red hair who seemed to be everywhere at the same time. He had to admit he had been so panicked he had been careless. Master never rewarded carelessness.

He was about to drop the apple on the ground when Ma'am's voice sounded in Boy's head as clear as if she was there in the tunnel with him, scolding him to 'waste not want not'. Ma'am normally said that after Boy did something such as burn the toast, and Master then normally followed it up with the announcement that he was to have no food the rest of the day to make restitution. However, the next voice Boy heard was Small's squeaky voice telling him that when someone went to all the trouble of doing something for you it was only polite to let them go ahead and do it. He supposed that applied to the half-eaten apple too. Cousin had gone to all the trouble of giving it to him, and to not eat it now would not only be a waste of food such as what Ma'am was constantly harping about, but it would also be impolite. Coincidentally, both things Master had rules against Boy doing.

Boy grinned to himself as he started to nibble on the dried fruit. How his fortune had changed in a few short hours! Yesterday he would have sworn that by now he would have been rose fertilizer after a long horrible night in the playroom with Master. But here he was, on his own for the first time ever, and he was no longer thirsty or hungry! How in the world did that happen?

Thinking about it, he decided everything started to change the moment the pin slid under the door into his little cupboard. Maybe it was lucky like Cousin said. He felt through his things, until he came to the pin. Unlike the little silver knife which was cool to the touch, the metal of the golden pin was warm. Boy fingered the intricate carvings of the animals on the surface as he snuggled down. It was curious, for not only did just holding the pin make him feel safe – somehow it made him feel surrounded by love, just as his story book and blanket had always done.

Sighing contentedly (another unfamiliar emotion for which the collar had not corrective action), Boy clutched the pin tightly to his chest and finally drifted off into a sound sleep.

Tomorrow was soon enough to worry about how to find a bus.


End file.
